All of the Above
by Tobirion
Summary: Denzel's family is a bit unconventional, but he likes it that way. What does second grade have in store? (please circle one.) a) Zack, frustrated with life and looking elsewhere for excitement; b) Cloud falling for the new teacher Mr. Leonhart; c) the growth of a family, one whose bond is strong and no less loving, or meaningful, for being a bit unusual; or d) all of the above.
1. Chapter 1

_Happy December! This is a holiday present written for the esteemed Sawsbuckgo on tumblr._  
 _This fic will feature Clack, Strifehart, and Zangeal. Full summary: Denzel's family is a bit unconventional, but he likes it that way. Zack and Cloud, divorced for two years now but still best friends, raise their son together along with Denzel's birth mother, Tifa. What does second grade have in store? (please circle one.) a) Zack, frustrated with his humdrum life, looking elsewhere for excitement; b) Cloud falling for the new (and very 'cool') teacher Mr. Leonhart; c) the growth of a family, one whose bond is strong and no less loving, or meaningful, for being a bit unusual; or d) all of the above._

* * *

When Zack was a child, he had never enjoyed any holiday or special day as much as he should have due to being half-asleep. At fancy dinners with his extended family he would be nodding off into his plate. Once he opened his presents on Solstice morning he would faceplant right into the carpet and take a nap beneath the tree, bathed in dozens of small, colorful lights and stray pine needles. It became something of a joke in his family.

The ribs about how Zack couldn't pay very good attention during family get-togethers stopped somewhat after his ADHD diagnosis around fourth grade—but they continued to tease him afterward about how his constant sleepiness on those big, important days left him largely unable to process what was going on around him.

Because, really, it was funny—Zack was exhausted as a result of getting so worked up the night before, just _thinking_ about that special day, that he couldn't sleep. The irony of then not being able to appreciate that day properly was lost on no one. Zack's brain still kept him up fairly often, where he couldn't get his thoughts to slow and quiet, but these days his birthday or a holiday wouldn't keep him up the night before; he'd left that in childhood.

Small hands tugged at his comforter and Zack stirred with a tired grunt. He was on his stomach, with his arms up and folded underneath his pillow. He turned his head, blinking his eyes past their blurriness, and squinted at who had pulled down his blankets.

Denzel stood there, already dressed, his eyes very big and his expression very guilty. Zack recognized the signs immediately.

"You didn't sleep," he sighed.

That particular tendency of Zack's must have permeated the cosmic miasma somehow and made its way to Denzel, because his son was the exact same way.

"…I got an hour somewhere, I think," Denzel said. "I blinked once and then the clock was different."

Zack sighed raggedly, going boneless in his bed for a moment. He closed his eyes as if trying to forget Denzel was right in front of him. Then he sat up, put his hands under his small son's armpits, and hauled him into bed.

The kid looked spiffy as hell. He'd picked out his outfit for the first day of school two weeks back; he was _devastatingly_ excited about second grade. There was a crisp white shirt with a tiny blue sweater vest over top (too damn cute, Zack had said to Tifa, who had gone shopping with Denzel to buy it) and brown pants with pockets that _zippered_ , a little splash of actual style and attitude. Denzel had asked Zack that past weekend why real-life couldn't be like the cartoons he liked to watch on television, where the characters wore the same outfit every episode.

"Well," Zack had said, looking up from his work laptop, resting on his thighs as he sat next to Denzel on the couch, "Don't you think we'd all really stink if we wore the same clothes every day?"

"…I guess," Denzel answered, uncertain.

"We both know I smell like a Behemoth's butt when I get back from the gym," Zack said, reaching over to poke Denzel, making him grin. "Imagine if I didn't change out of those clothes and wore them _every day_."

"But no one on the shows ever tells their friends they stink."

"Maybe they shower every single night. And do their laundry every single night, too. I guess you can wear your first-day outfit day after day if you're willing to do that."

Zack hid a smile; Denzel reacted as he'd imagined, by wrinkling up his nose. It was nearly impossible to get that kid into the shower sometimes, and folding laundry? Forget it. Zack thought the subject was dropped and went back to his notations for work, but then Denzel said, after a minute, with a sly smile on his face, "…Daddy said he always picks up something so his hands're busy when you get back from the gym, so he doesn't have to hug you hello."

"What!" Outrage splashed across Zack's face. "You're lying!"

Denzel giggled, shaking his head. "He says you smell like the grease Tifa scrapes off the top of her oven."

"That's it," Zack said, scowling, "Next time I go to the gym I'm going to drive to Seventh Heaven, knock whatever he picked up out of his hands, and hug the _heck_ out of him."

Denzel was laughing openly now, probably imagining what his Daddy's face would look like if Zack did that. Zack laughed too, at the same image.

Right now the outfit that Denzel liked so much was getting all rumpled, but neither of them particularly cared. His new boots—thank Gaia—were not on, and Zack nestled his son firmly beneath the covers, then hugged him back against his chest.

Denzel certainly had Cloud's spiky hair. These spikes were small, though, and not quite as gravity-defying. Zack loved to bury his face in Denzel's hair and did so now. They were particularly messy today, from Denzel tossing and turning all night.

"Papa," Denzel whispered after a minute, perhaps fearing Zack had fallen asleep again with his arms around him. He was notoriously hard to wake up in the morning, when it was so often difficult for him to doze off.

"Yeah, Denz?"

"It's the first day of school, come _on_!"

"You _sure_ you're not tired? We can call in sick today, both of us, and stay here with movies—"

" _No_ ," Denzel said, wiggling now, trying to escape Zack's arms that had grown suddenly heavy and kept re-adjusting, keeping him prisoner. His clothes really were a wreck now.

Zack finally let him go with a sigh, and Denzel quickly crawled out of bed. He was so grown up already—he wasn't interested in playing hooky. It was probably for the best. Zack got up too, turning off his alarm that wasn't due to go off for another fifteen minutes, and ushered Denzel downstairs.

Breakfast was Denzel's favorite cereal (which was Zack's favorite too, to be fair, though he made Denzel split a banana with him for _vitamins_ , which he stressed when Denzel's lip started to curl). Zack, like a lot of folks with mild insomnia resulting from his ADHD, downed a cup of coffee quick. Denzel had brought his backpack downstairs at some point in the early morning; it was new, and had Vincent Valentine on it, Denzel's favorite superhero.

Zack got himself ready (with another cup of coffee, swallowing his meds on the way) and double-checked Denzel's backpack. Sure enough, some of the paperwork they had for Denzel's new teacher was still in the living room. Denzel retrieved it as Zack got started on his lunch. "I'm putting one of my energy drinks in your lunch box, Denz," Zack called, speaking over the sounds of a moving truck outside. The house next door, empty for a couple months now, was finally being filled. "Much cooler than the juice boxes you usually get, yeah? Special treat for the first day?"

"Yeah!" Denzel called back. Zack bit back a laugh; the kid would be off the walls after lunch, but hey, at least he wouldn't be falling asleep. The poor teacher would probably think he was a shitty parent, but… what could ya do.

The early September air felt good on their skin. Denzel ran to Zack's car in the driveway, his backpack bouncing against his back. The driveway wasn't very long, and still had enough room in it for a motorcycle—not that there was a need for that very often, anymore. Zack lived in one of those neighborhoods where all the houses looked fairly similar, copy-and-pasted next to each other with a stripe of green, manicured lawn in between. The sidewalks were wide and smooth (and often covered in chalk drawings), and many of the roads ended in cul-de-sacs full of basketball nets, tiny bicycles resting on their sides, and small plastic swords, the kind SOLDIERs used on TV.

At the end of Zack's driveway stood a mailbox that Denzel had painted when he was three years old, when he, his dad, and Zack moved into this very house. There was a tiny paint handprint on the side that opened, Zack's on one of the longer ones, and Cloud's opposite Zack's. There was also a moving truck about to knock it over.

Zack dropped his saddle briefcase and ran down his driveway, waving his arms. "Hey!" he called, "Watch out, man!"

The driver of the truck did not hear him, and backed right into their damn mailbox. It did not put up much of a fight; the wood bent and leaned for all of a millisecond before breaking off where the rear bumper of the truck was pushing into it. It fell with a dull thud into the grass, and that was that.

"What the _fuc_ —!" Zack had to clap a hand over his own mouth, glancing back at Denzel, who was staring at their downed mailbox like he'd just seen his friend Marlene's kitten get hit, not a wooden pole with a metal box on top.

The driver finally noticed them, hitting the brakes as he undoubtedly felt the crack of the mailbox breaking. An auburn-haired head poked out of the window, and he made eye contact with Zack.

"Come _on,_ dude!" Zack cried, throwing up his hands. "You broke the damn thing!"

"Ugh, shit," Zack heard the man say before climbing out of the truck. He wore cowboy boots with large heels and designer jeans—plus a scowl. "That's not my fault," was the next thing out of his mouth.

Denzel's first day of second grade started with his father yelling at a stranger in their driveway.

Eventually, though, they had to get moving—it would not do to be late on the first day, and Zack had work besides. The truck driver, apparently "just a friend" of whoever his new neighbor was, and someone devoid of any sense of responsibility (and driving skills, apparently) kept bitching at Zack even as he hauled the mailbox into his house and slapped a 'SORRY' note onto his front door with instructions to slide their mail that day beneath the crack of the door.

Denzel, having buckled himself into his booster seat, was nearly in tears.

"It's okay, bud," Zack soothed, his voice soft and unconsciously higher-pitched. "We'll get it fixed. That guy was a butt."

With a great big sniff and his lips trembling, Denzel nodded.

Zack felt like shit. He tried not to lose it in front of Denz—tried to keep up that 'goofy, charming, pleasant' image he'd worked so hard to perfect over the years. The kid looked up to him besides; it was his responsibility to keep it cool. Still… it was hard to shake the image of the side of the mailbox with Cloud's years-old handprint stuck into the dirt. It made his stomach turn.

Zack discretely flipped off the guy as they drove away. The redhead saw, but not Denzel. With that done he let out a deep sigh, squared his shoulders, and fixed his son with a broad grin through the rearview mirror. "So!" he said, forced enthusiasm making his voice boom, "You excited for your first day!?"

On the way to school Denzel chatted Zack's ear off about all the exciting things second graders did (among them a unit on volcanoes, a trip to the aquarium, and a musical everybody participated in) and how cool everyone last year had said his current teacher would be. Zack's house was in the suburbs of Midgar, so it wasn't quite as difficult getting to work in the morning as it would be if they lived downtown, like where Seventh Heaven was. The ride to ShinRa Elementary was pleasant.

There were buses that came and collected some students, but the bus stop was a couple blocks down from where they lived and Zack wasn't comfortable having Denzel walk that by himself at his age. Instead, he and Cloud dropped Denzel off at school and picked him up directly. Over the summer Denzel had been at a different elementary school a few days a week for summer camp.

"You gonna miss summer?" Zack asked as they climbed out of the car, having found a parking spot at the edge of the lot; it was packed. Zack remembered the excitement he used to get for the first day… in fact, he probably stayed up the night before one or two of them, too.

"I guess," Denzel said. He was a bit subdued now, shyly holding Zack's hand as they walked into the building. It was a big school; it held five grades plus kindergarten and had three floors. "I might miss spending so much time with Daddy, but I'm still happy for school." Zack held his driver's license up to a reader by the front door. It scanned the thing and recognized him, granting him access.

"What room are you again?" Zack asked, as if he didn't already know.

"2-8!" Denzel said, pulling on Zack's hand. It was the famous _Mr. Leonhart's_ room. From the way Denzel had been carrying on about the guy you'd think he was a celebrity. Apparently Mr. Leonhart was cooler than the other second grade teachers. Denzel had been so excited when he'd received the letter with his class assignment in the mail over the summer.

Denzel's room was on the second floor. For some reason kindergarten, first, and half of the third grade was on the first floor. Denzel looked excited to climb the stairs that previously he'd had little reason to traverse. They were buffeted on all sides by hurrying, often screaming children. A few guardians had decided to drop their kids off personally, like Zack. Some kids were trying to find their rooms alone, clutching pieces of paper in their tiny fists. Staff were in the hallways directing traffic.

Just outside room 2-8 were two long billboards—class work would be put out there in time. For now, there was a bright display that read WELCOME TO SECOND GRADE. They entered the classroom together. Denzel shifted to stand slightly behind Zack as they took in the new room.

It seemed to be slightly bigger than Denzel's first-grade classroom. Everything was bright and colorful, with one wall covered in vocabulary words and large swaths of Velcro so they could be maneuvered. Along the back wall were windowsills and empty pots; looked like they were going to be doing a plant unit. There was a chalk blackboard as well as one of the new, fancier boards with touch-screen capabilities, and several 'tables' formed by pushing desks together.

There were other students and a couple guardians milling around, finding desks and getting their charges situated.

Denzel's desk was on the side of the room with his back to the windows; his name was neatly written on a name tag. There was a folder on the desk—a quick glance showed it had some getting-to-know-your-classmates activities in it. They took out the paperwork they'd completed that week and placed it beside the folder. Denzel's letter to Mr. Leonhart—their only homework for the summer—was carefully placed on top.

It was about how Denzel's life had been that summer. How he'd spent most of his time with his Dad, who worked part-time and took care of Denzel on his off days, when he was thus not at summer camp. How Tifa had taught him a lot about cooking that year, showing him how to cook a sizzling bar burger and coat Seventh Heaven's onion rings in cold, sticky batter that Denzel loved to squish between his fingers. How Zack had taken him on a small vacation with just the two of them to the beach for a couple days; it was a vacation that Zack hadn't wanted to end.

Denzel told Zack that he hoped Mr. Leonhart liked him; Zack told Denzel that it was impossible for anybody not to.

Mr. Leonhart himself was finally making his way over to them. The buses hadn't arrived yet, so the room was not all that busy. He was a tall man, maybe an inch shorter than Zack, in form-fitting black slacks, a long-sleeved white shirt with sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and…

"Hey, Denzel," Zack said, a grin growing on his face. He put his hand on the back of Denzel's shoulders and guided him out from behind him. "Your new teach has the same sense of style that you do."

Mr. Leonhart's sweater vest was black with a gray pattern, not blue like Denzel's, but Denzel looked amazed anyway.

The teacher made eye contact with Zack for a moment before sliding his gaze down to Denzel's. He put his hands on his hips. "You're a fan of these?" he asked. "I have quite a few of them, but no blue. You think I should add one like yours to my collection?"

"…Yeah," Denzel said, hesitating only briefly. He'd been so shy for so long—Zack was making progress in getting his son out of his shell, but it was taking time. "I got it from the store across from Palmer's Pizza near the art gallery."

Zack bit back a laugh; that store downtown only sold children's clothes. Mr. Leonhart nodded seriously though. "I might have to pay them a visit, then," he said. "I can't have my students better-dressed than me. Everyone might think _you're_ the teacher here."

Zack rubbed a comforting hand down Denzel's spine. "Would you like that? Teaching everyone about Vincent Valentine for a whole year?"

"No way," Denzel said, shaking his head vigorously. "I'd run out of things to talk about."

"Story of my life," Mr. Leonhart quipped, making both Zack and Denzel laugh. He smiled—he was a hot dude, with long, soft brown hair and kind eyes. The scar running at an angle between his eyes and the bridge of his nose was a bit surprising at first—he'd seen Denzel's eyes widen as he tucked himself closer behind Zack's legs before Zack pulled him out—but it worked, for this man. He held out a hand towards Denzel. "You are…?"

"Denzel Strife," Denzel said politely. He shook his teacher's hand like a real grown-up, his grip nice and firm like Zack had shown him, an expert at them himself from conducting interviews and greeting people at countless board meetings.

"It's good to finally meet you, Denzel. I heard a lot of great things about you from your teacher last year." Mr. Leonhart then fixed his attention back on Zack. He held out his hand again. "Squall Leonhart. It's a pleasure."

Zack shook, but with genuine warmth, not the fake kind he presented at those interviews or board meetings. "Zack Fair. Denzel's my son. It's good to meet you, man."

"You too."

"Denzel was so excited about school today he didn't sleep much last night. He might be a little sleepy; sorry in advance."

"That's okay. We'll be doing fun things today, to keep you awake. Not a whole lot of gross…" Squall leaned down with a hand over his mouth, like he was going to whisper a secret to Denzel. "… _learning_ today."

Denzel laughed. Mr. Leonhart had to go greet some new students who had just entered and left with a last smile at the both of them. "I like him," Denzel whispered to Zack as soon as he was out of earshot.

"Me too."

They hung Denzel's backpack up on his designated hook against the wall by the door. He had a small cubby, too, and Zack stowed his lunch. "Don't forget about your energy drink," he warned. Denzel dutifully said that he would not.

They sat Denzel down at his desk. It was bigger than the one he'd had in first grade… but then, Denzel was bigger, too. Seven years old, not six. Zack stared down at his son, feeling his heart well with affection. Denzel had not inherited Cloud's beautiful blue eyes, but Tifa's warm reddish-brown instead. They were just as beautiful.

"Bye, buddy," Zack said. He put his hand in Denzel's soft, short spikes and gave them a gentle ruffle. "Your Dad's gonna pick you up in the afternoon. I'll see you soon."

Denzel looked like he wanted to give Zack a hug but resisted, because he was _cool_ these days. He settled for covering Zack's hand in his hair and removing it, but not before giving the larger hand a squeeze. Zack forced himself to leave, lest he stubbornly stay the rest of the day.

* * *

Kunsel had gotten so cynical of everyone at AVALANCHE's shit over the years. He and Kunsel had started at the company within a month of each other, twelve years back, at 22, straight out of college. Kunsel had gone to Edge College, not Midgar U like Zack. The two Midgar-based schools had a terrific rivalry and they'd initially gotten close by ribbing each other over Edge's dismal football team and Midgar's coveted last-place title in basketball.

Quite honestly, they'd gotten each other through the past decade together. Without Kunsel, there through the management switch and mass lay-offs of five years back, or the last boss they'd had, there only for six months but absolutely tyrannical during that time, Zack probably would not have stayed.

Without Zack, who had a kind smile whenever Kunsel came back with gloomy news about his now ex-girlfriend or a funny thing to say when politics hit too close to home, Kunsel would have quit too, he'd said more than once. Together the two men had combed at least ten blocks in every direction from AVALANCHE's location for all the good lunch restaurants. They sent each other funny emails and popped into each other's offices for a good talk when someone wasn't feeling like working (which was more often than not, to tell the truth).

Kunsel's utter disdain for half of their executive board always made Zack laugh, even on his worst days.

A few hours earlier Zack had trudged into the building with a scowl on his face, one he didn't bother trying to hide around Kunsel, unlike everybody else. He grunted something about Denzel's first day of school—the angst of a parent whose kid was growing up too fast was something Kunsel could empathize with, even if he had no children of his own—and then muttered about his mailbox getting downed by some asshole after that.

Kunsel did not quite understand what about the mailbox was depressing Zack so much, but it hardly mattered; he'd launched into a rant about Barnaby Hojo's presentation they were both going to have to sit through that evening until Zack was nearly in tears from laughing so hard, and things were mostly better after that.

It was their lunch break now, and as Zack chewed the leftover pasta he'd brought he tilted his head, considering Kunsel's criticism of AVALANCHE's newest acquisition. They were buying out a small advertising firm on the western edge of Midgar city. Kunsel seemed to think that it was a foolish decision.

"We all know they're just doing that so the top execs are closer to their mansions and don't have to commute as far in the morning," Kunsel said. His sandy blond hair flopped into his eyes as he hung his head, a defeated look spreading across his face.

"Well, hey," Zack said, fighting a smile. "You know what this means, don't you?"

"What."

"They're farther away from us."

Kunsel looked up; his eyes were narrowed. "…You've gotta point there," he conceded. "I won't have to run into Rufus and that dog of his in the elevator anymore."

"Dark Nation is cute," Zack said. "And such a good service dog, too. She got Rufus help for his seizure last month when he was talking to the CEO of Corneo's, remember?"

"I ain't sayin' she's not a good service dog," Kunsel said, "I'm sayin' that he's an asshole and I'll be glad to not have her glaring at me when I'm trying to get down to the basement levels."

Kunsel's office was nearly identical to Zack's in terms of layout and furniture, but it was decorated differently. There was a diploma from Edge and not Midgar, for starters—and unlike Zack, he didn't have tasteful throw pillows on the armchair in the corner nor a blanket. Zack's office was in the mighty path of a faulty heating coil that left him shaking with cold in the winter time. Zack stared at a photo of Kunsel with his current girlfriend and their dog, Lux.

"Denzel wants a dog," Zack said, frowning. "I don't really wanna take care of the thing, but he _really_ wants one—and dammit, _how_ is he in the second grade already!?"

A gentle knock on the door made them both look up. A familiar brown-clad figure was leaning into the room, fixing them with a soft smile. "Hey," Kunsel greeted warmly, but Zack, a little spooked, said some awkward mix of "Oh!" and "Hello!"

Cloud grinned and came further into the room. "Tifa and I don't have space for a dog at our place," he said, shrugging, "It'll have to be you, Zack."

Zack was standing already, leaving his small tupperware container on Kunsel's desk top. He could tell Kunsel was on the verge of saying something like _It's okay, you don't have to leave,_ but he ushered Cloud out and down the hallway because he could. If Cloud was here… that probably meant he had something important to say, and Zack just wasn't up to doing that in front of a friend.

Cloud seemed to sense Zack's anxiety. "I was doing a delivery to a place across the street," he said, "And I thought I'd stop in. I'm glad I caught you on your lunch break."

"Yeah," Zack said, his heart doing strange things, "I am too."

They entered Zack's office and shut the door behind them. Some of the papers on Zack's desk had been straightened—Cloud likely came here first, poked around a bit, and then left to find him at Kunsel's room down the hall.

Cloud always looked damn good in the summer version of his work uniform. Brown shorts, short enough to show a few inches of his toned thighs… a belt cinched tight around his thin hips, and a sleeveless, starch brown buttoned top. He'd cut the sleeves off of all of them himself, but his boss didn't give a shit and let it slide. Zack's eyes lingered, and Cloud, of course, caught him at it. Cloud tilted his head, frowning.

"Second grade," Zack said nervously.

"Second grade," Cloud repeated, a bit of awe in his voice.

Zack sighed, and the two men stood there in thoughtful silence for a long moment. Cloud eventually said, rubbing one of those muscular biceps, "…He's getting so fucking old."

"I _know_!" Then Zack was laughing—and Cloud joined in. "He was so cute this morning. He didn't sleep at _all_. Well—he says he might have gotten an hour in there somewhere. He woke me up and he was all dressed up by the side of the bed with these huge dark circles under his eyes."

"Poor kid," Cloud said, smiling widely. He snorted at Zack's decision to leave Denz with an energy drink. "He's gonna be crawling all over me on the ride home this afternoon."

"Probably. Oh—the room's on the second floor; you should take the staircase on the far right end of the building. We took the wrong one this morning and had to hike it a bit." Cloud nodded as Zack gave him the basic info about Denzel's new classroom and what second grade would entail.

"His new teacher seems okay? After the constant discussion of him all summer he better live up to the damn hype."

"Yeah." Zack nodded. "He seems like a cool guy. They both wore sweater vests today—I think Denzel got a kick out of it. It was cute."

"…Second grade," Cloud said again.

Zack confirmed, "Second grade."

All those ridiculous existential thoughts he'd had that day about the passage of time and the cycle of birth, growth, adulthood, and death must have shown on his face. Cloud shuffled closer and then pulled him into a hug. His arms slipped around Zack's shoulders with the same familiarity they'd had for hundreds of such hugs over the years. Zack's hand fell to the small of Cloud's back and pushed, gently, holding Cloud to him, because his emotions needed it.

It was _not_ because he was horny and frustrated lately, after another shitty date two nights previous. When he'd seen a deliriously happy mother and father dropping their kid off together for first grade his stomach had _not_ tightened into a knot. When he realized how much younger that couple was than him he had _not_ looked away, clenching his jaw.

Except that Cloud knew that it was, and that it had, and that _he_ had, and was understanding about it—which was the worst part. Cloud let out a soothing hum as Zack buried his face in his hair, much like he had Denzel's earlier that morning, cuddling him in bed.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice so wonderfully deep, vibrating against Zack's chest.

"Yeah. I don't know. It's just that a lot of weird things are happening at once, you know?" Zack opened his mouth to tell Cloud about the mailbox, but something made him bite it back.

"Yeah." When Cloud drew back, his hands lingered, sliding down the front of Zack's suit jacket. It felt good. They made eye contact, feeling each other out.

Cloud's hands retracted and went back into the pockets of his shorts. "You can do it, Papa."

Zack grinned. "Not if you're not with me, _Daddy_."

"Don't call me that," Cloud said, scowling—but then they were both laughing again.

It had been two years since Zack and Cloud peacefully and amicably ended their six year marriage in divorce. They never stopped raising Denzel together though, with both of his fathers just as involved as before—along with Tifa, Cloud's oldest friend, who had offered to be the surrogate for Denzel all those years ago. Denzel did not call Tifa 'Mom' but she was the mother figure in his life all the same.

Originally none of them had planned for Tifa to be as big a presence in Denzel's life as she came to be, but when it came down to it, the more love that kid had the better off he'd be. And it was a lot of love—Cloud and Zack worked hard to raise their son right. They were far better off as friends, they realized way, _way_ too late, but despite that, two friends could take care of a kid pretty damn well.

(And each other. The romantic element of their relationship had died—or perhaps never even existed at all—but the physical one… less so. They hadn't hooked up many times after their divorce but it had happened… often enough.)

Cloud had known Zack since he was 20 and Zack 23. He couldn't stay and Zack had to finish his lunch, and as they said goodbye to each other with another hug, more chaste this time around, Zack could feel Cloud's feelers out, trying to sense what exactly was wrong with him, and where this was going. The blond man was excellent at figuring him out; he'd had a long time to practice.

"You still gonna come by for dinner Wednesday night?" Cloud asked.

"Yeah, I'll be there. Denzel said he wants Tifa to make his favorite."

"Got it. See you, Papa," Cloud said. The look he sent Zack over his shoulder as he left was almost flirty; he strutted off down the hallway, knowing Zack's eyes would follow him out.

 _Fuuuck,_ Zack thought, crossing his arms.

"What are you doing tonight?" Kunsel asked a couple minutes later. He'd eaten half of Zack's remaining pasta in the time Zack was gone.

"Got another date," he answered, "For my own sake, I hope it goes well."


	2. Chapter 2

"Do you have tape in a different color?"

Cloud was excellent at keeping his cool in trying customer service situations. He never offered too-bright, fake smiles to start with, so he did not have to worry about his composure faltering. Cloud rarely flustered, too, which was always a good thing.

"I do," he answered, staring dully at an elderly woman who was sucking up all his time. He was supposed to pick up some boxes of hers that were already packaged, but he'd gotten there and one of the boxes still wasn't done. "We have a darker gray and a gray that's even darker, but that's because it's dirty and has been in my truck for about four years."

She laughed awkwardly at his joke; Cloud continued to stare, waiting patiently. She decided to just go with the tape Cloud had grabbed originally, in black. Cloud loaded her boxes onto his handcart and wheeled them down the sidewalk leading from her expensive Midgar townhouse to his truck, waiting in the road with its flashers on.

 _Highwind's_ was a famous delivery megacorporation with chains all over the continent. They specialized in getting things around Gaia fast; hell, they even used airships to get the really expedited items around quickly. Luckily for Cloud, he was just a ground guy (he got rather airsick, and boatsick, and…).

Driving a vehicle himself was no problem, though, and he blared his music as the truck rumbled to life and he took off. Denzel particularly liked riding in his truck because it had no doors.

"What's gonna keep you in if you get in an accident?" Denzel had asked once, sticking out his arm so the wind whistled past it. He tilted his hand up, amazed as it coasted upward as if pushed from below. ( _Lift,_ Cloud had explained— _bernoulli's principle. Lift is generated with differences in air pressure. When your hand is tilted like that—it has what they call a 'positive angle of attack.' Air's going above and below your hand, right? It's in these slipstreams—like tubes. Tell me, what happens to the water when you put your thumb over half of a hose's spout?_

 _It speeds up,_ Denzel answered, thinking of how he'd done that and sprayed his Dad with it, who'd let out a shriek; it had been funny.

 _Yeah. The water accelerates. When you tilt your hand up the same amount of air now has to go through a smaller space on top of your hand in the same amount of time, so the air on top moves faster. Yeah—just like the hose; exactly, Denz. And air has a weaker push if it's moving quickly than when it's slow. So. You've got fast air on top, like water out of a hose and... what kind of air on bottom?_

 _Slow_ , Denzel had answered, after some thought.

 _Right. Fast air on top of your hand, with a weak push—and slow air on bottom, with a stronger push. Air makes your hand go…_

 _Up!_

 _Yeah. That's lift. Just 'cause you tilted your hand up,_ air _is gonna push it up. Ever wondered how airplanes got up into the air?_

 _Yeah. It doesn't make any sense—they're so big!_

 _Airships are a little different, but for planes—there's the shape of the wings. The leading edge is curved, like your thumb over the spout of a hose… makes the air on top accelerate. Then if you tilt the wings up a bit, like they do on take-off…_

 _Air will push the plane into the air, like my hand!_

 _You got it, Denz.)_

But as for what will keep them inside the truck with no doors if they were to crash— "Our seatbelts," Cloud answered dryly. "Simple physics."

Fortunately, nothing like that happened on his way to his drop-off point. He parked the truck beside all the other _Highwind's_ trucks and took care of his statistics for the day. He reported to his superior, clocked out, and got on his own ride.

Fenrir was happy to see him, and purred in delight between his legs. "Easy, boy," Cloud murmured, trying not to move his mouth too much lest his coworkers know he sometimes talked to his motorcycle.

At this time of day traffic was a nightmare, but luckily for Cloud, bikes were a little easier to navigate around town than cars. He made it to ShinRa elementary a couple minutes after the kids were let out for the day, but he was late most of the time last year when he got Denzel; the kid knew not to worry if he had to sit around a little bit before Cloud showed up.

It was always kind of weird being back at first after a whole summer away from school; Cloud remembered that from his own time in them. Small things changed, but they were always fairly jarring anyway. There had been a large banner in the lobby for the entirety of Denzel's first grade year that was gone now, and Cloud only noticed the banner now, in its absence.

Room 2-8. Cloud strolled inside with his heavy work boots clomping on the smooth tile of the hallway. It transitioned to muted blue carpet.

Nice place. Busy, though—elementary school classrooms were always far too busy for Cloud to handle. He knew they had given Zack trouble when he was a kid; too much to look at all at once, too much to distract him from the teacher sitting up front. There was a large calendar near the wall and things written under each day of the week, shelves of colorful books organized by reading level, strings hanging across the ceiling so work could be clothespinned to it for all to see…

A place like this would be the last place he'd want to be if he was hungover, Cloud decided. There were cubbies against the wall—Cloud's eyes found the word DENZEL right away.

"Dad!"

Denzel was sitting at his desk, and for a moment, looked like he would get up. But much like how he would not call Cloud _Daddy_ in public anymore because it apparently wasn't fitting for a second-grader, Denzel did not run into his arms, and relaxed back into his seat.

So Cloud took his time. He pretended not to hear his son, putting his hands on his hips and strolling over to a motivational poster about standing up for yourself. There were a few other people in the room. A trio of girls were showing a few adults some pieces of paper stapled to a wide area of red paper against one of the back walls.

Cloud made a show of sauntering over to the teacher's desk. There was a box of tissues. No apples—guess this wasn't like when his grandma had gone to school. Cloud pretended to use a tissue, dropping it into the nearby trash can.

Teachers here really had some fancy computers—it was amazing, especially since the Midgar school system simply didn't have as much funding as schools outside in the suburbs, since the value of the homes nearby determined the amount of tax funding that went to the schools. Awful stuff. The school must have received a large donation over the summer; it made Cloud's heart warm.

"Dad!" he heard Denzel hiss from somewhere behind him.

Cloud lingered a little longer, studying the leather jacket slung over the back of the teacher's chair and the nice leather shoulder-bag beside it. The desk was quite neatly organized.

" _Dad_!"

Cloud finally turned around. Denzel was hunched over his desk, his brown eyes imploring. He was blushing. Cloud looked left and right before pointing at himself. "Oh," he said, "You talkin' to me, kid?"

Denzel's glare was nothing but adorable. Zack said he'd gotten Cloud's scowly face. Cloud chuckled but finally headed towards his son, taking pity on him. As he strode towards Denzel, whipping off his brown _Highwind's_ hat, he realized that a man in a sweater-vest had turned from the middle-aged woman he was conversing with to eye him. Probably Denzel's teacher, going by the description Zack had given him earlier that day when Cloud had visited him at work.

 _Eh, fuck him_ , Cloud thought. He was just playing with Denzel; the kid secretly loved it when Cloud teased him, and his smile was a mile wide as Cloud reached him. Cloud crouched and drew Denzel into a warm, lingering hug. Denzel seemed to forget he was too cool for such a thing and returned it eagerly.

His son smelled like scented markers and oranges. "You spill anything on yourself at lunch?" Cloud asked, drawing back. Denzel nodded—and kept nodding as he plucked at his sweater vest.

"Yeah," he said, "Papa gave me one of his drinks, and I drank it, and my hands were kind of shaky so when I was eating the fruit cup my spoon kinda…" Denzel demonstrated, spilling imaginary mandarin oragnes and light syrup all over his shirt.

"Oh d—ear," Cloud said, laughing kind of nervously. He rather hoped Denzel's starey teacher hadn't heard that. "How was your first day, Denz?"

" _Awesome_!" Denzel stood, bouncing on his toes. He'd gotten new boots recently, and had somehow found the one pair that also managed to have light-up soles. "Tifa said we would have homework the first day and we _don't_ —that's how cool Mr. Leonhart is."

"He's cool, huh?"

A muffled chuckle made him look up. Denzel's teacher had actually strolled closer, now leaning slightly against the other side of the 'table' that was formed from Denzel and four other students' desks.

"You'll have homework tomorrow," he warned. "And I'm not all that cool. Tonight's homework is for him, not you."

Mr. Leonhart walked a bit closer and tapped his finger against a folder sitting on the top of Denzel's desk. Cloud eyed it.

"…No," Denzel said, glancing between the folder and Cloud several times. "That makes you _extra_ cool, Mr. Leonhart."

Both Cloud and the teacher let out unexpectedly loud laughter at that one. Kids were so fucking funny. "C'mon, Mr. Leonhart," Cloud implored, standing back up and holding out his hands as Denzel laughed behind a fist, "What did I do to deserve homework? Can't you just let it slide?"

Denzel's new teacher was certainly a vision. He brushed some of his hair behind one ear and seemed to be considering Cloud as intently as Cloud was him. The muscles of his forearm, exposed by his pushed-back sleeves, flexed as he picked up the folder, and pushed it to Cloud's chest. Cloud had a thing for forearms (and for hot men pressing folders into his chest with flirty smiles). "My apologies," Mr. Leonhart said, "But all my students have to do their homework."

"Or what?" Cloud asked, fighting a smile.

"You lose two stars on the board," was the response, along with a finger pointed at a bulletin board near the door. "You get one every time you do it. With enough stars you get prizes—a book of your choice off the shelf is the first one."

"Oh man." Cloud eyed Denzel and patted the folder, taking it from the teacher. "Looks like we gotta be extra careful you're getting all your work done, Denz."

Denzel nodded seriously. "I was going to even if there wasn't prizes."

"There you go." Cloud was proud. Mr. Leonhart also looked approving.

"Squall Leonhart," he said, and shook Cloud's hand. His smile was no longer teasing and playful; Cloud was sure he hadn't imagined it, though. Cloud introduced himself.

"I want to show you something," Denzel said, and tugged on Cloud's hand. He led Cloud to the back wall, where the small crowd had been earlier. On display were twenty-five drawings. Of…

Mr. Leonhart had followed, and Cloud could feel his presence behind them. "We drew our families," Denzel said. "Do you like mine?" He pointed at one near the top.

It was a crude stick figure drawing. The crayon coloring had gone outside the lines; Denzel's artistic ability had yet to bloom. There were three figures… Yellow, Black, Brown. Cloud, Zack, Tifa.

Cloud's shoulders tightened and his stomach flippd. He was suddenly acutely aware of Denzel's teacher standing behind him. It—it wasn't—

—Cloud couldn't _stand_ comments about his unconventional family.

His breathing shallowed as his mind raced; what on Gaia did the teacher think? Was he going to say something shitty about polyamorous couples, thinking that's what this was? Or—did he think he and Tifa were a straight couple with a bisexual experiment, Zack? Were he and Zack together and Tifa was—

Squall did not comment on any of that, however. He said, soft amusement making his words lilt in a gentle accent, "There were three different students who drew the pet they want in the future on their pieces today."

Cloud blinked and refocused on Denzel's art. There was a tiny gray blob at the bottom with four short stick legs and triangle ears. "…He does really want a dog," Cloud said, his voice coming out uncharacteristically shaky.

"Two," Denzel said simply, "But one seems easier at first, you know?"

Cloud started to answer, but he was interrupted by a booming voice from the entrance of the room—"Well! If it ain't Spiky and mini-Spiky!"

Oh, this was _awesome_. "Barret," Cloud greeted with a grin, his anxiety forgotten. If Barret was here, that meant— yes, there she was. Barret's daughter Marlene scurried out from behind the cubbies; Cloud had missed her earlier.

Barret lost one of his arms from just above the elbow down serving on a military tour three years ago. He had a prosthetic he wore sometimes, though was without today. He grabbed Cloud when he got close and tugged him into a gruff hug. "Haven't seen you all summer, Spiky!"

"I guess not." Cloud turned to Marlene, who was now hugging her dad's waist. "How come you didn't say hi to me, Marlene?"

"Helen and I were talking over there, I was busy," Marlene answered, as adorably sassy as ever.

Denzel and Marlene had been in the same kindergarten and first grade classes—second grade put them three for three. Cloud had known Barret back in college. True to form, as their kids talked Barret whipped out his phone and showed Cloud a graph that had just been emailed to him within the hour.

"The solar panels we installed on the roof of our building over the summer have been _seriously_ successful," he said. Cloud had never met anyone as passionate as Barret about making Midgar a sustainable place to live, and finding cleaner, alternative energy sources for the city to run on. Cloud saw the graph of readouts and almost gasped.

He said, taking the phone for himself, "That's incredible!"

Barret started telling him all about the new film they had on the panels that helped facilitate the movement of the photons better, and a new generator on the roof that—

"Daaaad," Marlene whined, "Mr. Striiiiife. Stop talking science already!"

The two men glanced down at her. Denzel, beside her, looked equally as bored.

"Ugh, alright, alright," Barret said, accepting back his phone, "You got us. 'Till next time, Spiky."

Cloud chuckled. "Later Barret, Marlene. It's good to see you two again."

They grabbed Denzel's stuff from his cubby. Denzel bade his teacher goodbye and Cloud nodded at him. Squall's eyes met his, intense and stormy gray. He was frowning slightly in thought. Cloud felt better once out in the hallway, without the teacher's heavy presence behind his back or over his shoulder. It was a strange sensation.

"You ready to go home? You tired?"

"No way," Denzel said, still buzzing. _He's gonna be out by six,_ Cloud thought.

Denzel strapped on his bike helmet and Cloud lifted him up to the seat he'd had installed on the back of Fenrir. It buckled in three places and would hold Denzel on tight; they'd adjusted the sizing a couple times as Denzel got older. Eventually he'd be able to be without the special harness and sit on the small elevated seat on the back—and later Cloud could get Fenrir refurbished and get rid of the seat altogether. A pre-teen Denzel could simply sit, turn with the curves along with him and wrap his arms around Cloud. Until then, though—safety. Denzel would go flying on this thing if Cloud didn't strap him down.

Newton's first law—an object in motion will move at a constant velocity unless acted upon by an outside force.

Cloud double-checked the clamps on that outside force and straddled the bike himself. He could almost feel Denzel pruning behind him. The kid loved to be seen on the back of Cloud's motorcycle. It made him cool to all his friends and he knew it.

They rolled out of the parking lot (turning the heads of a group of moms talking by the playground as their tiny children played) and out onto the main road. It was so _warm_ out—Cloud had done something he didn't do often, and forewent his leather jacket. They weren't going at speeds high enough from here to Seventh Heaven to risk anything, really; it was stop-and-go traffic all the way to the bar at this time of day.

At red lights Denzel shouted to Cloud about whoever his partner was for 'morning meeting,' whatever that was, and eventually Cloud called back, after only getting snatches of the conversation, "I can't hear you, bud—tell me when we get home, okay?"

There was a parking spot in the tiny lot behind the bar with a reserved space for Fenrir, and Cloud parked him. He picked Denzel up and balanced him on his hip as they went inside. Denzel was too big for this, but he still loved it, and Cloud handled enough heavy boxes every day to make it easy for another year or so until Denzel grew too much.

"Tifa!" Denzel called when the back door shut behind them.

Tifa was there in the empty room, adjusting the chairs around some of the tall, circular tables in the back. Seventh Heaven had a long bar counter and some booth tables as well. Sounds came from the kitchen; one or two of her part-timers must have been in, preparing the food for tonight. The bar opened at five p.m. every day for a quick happy hour and then the dinner/late-night crowd.

A wide, warm smile spread on Tifa's face as Denzel hurried up to her. She crouched and met him in a hug. "You look so handsome!" she gushed, holding his head to her shoulder and ruffling his hair. "I knew we picked out a good outfit."

Denzel was nodding and nodding and nodding. Tifa tilted her head, eyeing him, and glanced at Cloud, who was fighting a smile. "He was up all night because he was so excited about today," Cloud explained. He started fixing the chairs Tifa had abandoned. "Zack gave him one of those energy drinks he likes in his lunch."

"Oh, I see." Tifa plucked at Denzel's vest. "Don't those taste gross?"

"Yeah." Denzel made a face.

Tifa looked at Cloud. She pouted, her lower lip jutting out a bit. She was so damn beautiful sometimes. Her hair spilled over one shoulder as she cocked her head, playful. "Look what you did to him," she said. "Responding with 'yeah' all the time to everything like you do. Soon he'll be saying 'not interested' every time he has to do his homework."

"'Not interested,'" Denzel practiced. The tone was so flat, and his voice deeper than usual—he sounded just like Cloud.

As Tifa laughed, Cloud grumbled and continued picking up around the bar. Tifa and Denzel sat at one of the booths across from each other. Denzel's face was far more similar to Tifa's than his own; he had Tifa's nose, and the shape of her forehead, not to mention her eyes. Denzel's feet did not touch the ground and he bumped the backs of his new boots against the boards underneath, making the area beneath the table light up. It made Cloud think of a strobe light at a club.

 _Soon enough he'll be going to real clubs_ , Cloud thought, and winced.

Denzel was telling Tifa all about second grade. Everyone in his class was really cool except for Dane, a kid from first grade that had apparently been _really mean_. Tifa knocked a fist into her palm and asked Denzel if he needed 'the situation taken care of,' and Denzel shook his head with a laugh. He mentioned Mr. Leonhart, making Cloud look up.

"He seems like a nice guy," Cloud offered, supplementing Denzel's declaration that Mr. Leonhart was the coolest teacher in the whole school. Leonhart did. He took his kid seriously and didn't talk down to him like a pet, like some other teachers did. His room seemed neat and organized, like he had his shit together and was prepared to teach his students something this year.

Tifa seemed just as excited about Marlene being in Denzel's class. Marlene had come over for a few playdates last year; Tifa got along fabulously well with Barret. When Barret and Marlene went to Wutai together to visit Marlene's birth family (Barret adopted Marlene on his own when she was three years old) Barret had sent Tifa a bunch of scenic postcards, knowing Tifa loved to travel but rarely had the opportunity.

"Tell her about your drawing," Cloud said. He was flushing out the soda gun, leaning on the bar counter, but watching the duo closely.

Denzel grinned. "Mr. Leonhart said the first day is about getting to know each other. So we played a bunch of games and stuff and then he told us to draw a picture of our families. He told us that not every family is like on TV."

Tifa was smiling softly now, and reached across the table to rub Denzel's shoulder. "Like on TV?"

Nodding, Denzel said, "Yeah. Like, um, a Mommy and Daddy, you know? He said sometimes people have two moms, or just one dad—like Marlene and Mr. Wallace. Or that they live with their grandparents, or a f… um…"

"Foster parent?" Cloud asked. He caught Tifa's eye; they were both red in the face, for reasons they could not understand.

"Yeah, foster parent. Or people you're not related to but still care about you a lot. And that every kind of family is special." Denzel looked a bit awkward now, and looked down at his lap. "I… really liked how Mr. Leonhart said that."

Tifa rubbed Denzel's shoulder a moment longer, then let go of him, folding her arms on the tabletop. "I bet you did."

"His drawing was really, really nice," Cloud offered, coaxing it out of his son.

Denzel looked pleased. "So for mine I drew Daddy, Papa, and you." He looked at Tifa as he said it. "And when it was my turn to share, I said, 'This is my Dad and this is Papa. This is Tifa. I came from Tifa's belly because two men usually can't have a baby on their own. My parents are _divorced_ because they said they're better as best friends, so we don't live in the same house anymore.' But then I said that it's okay… because I get to see all three of you all the time now, and everyone is happier."

Cloud and Tifa did not answer at first. Both of them stared at Denzel. "…Wow," Tifa said weakly.

Cloud came around the counter and crawled onto the seat to draw Denzel into a gruff hug. He squeezed until Denzel started growling at him, wiggling his arms. Cloud didn't care that Denzel was too _cool_ for hugs; he held his son until the thundering in his ears and the clenching of his gut had subsided. Much to Denzel's misery, Tifa got up to hug him when Cloud moved away.

It was amazing, Tifa told him a minute later as Denzel went into the kitchen to grab a snack off one of the part-timers, how much kids could understand. Adults tended to underestimate them. Denzel was so… at peace with the situation too. The divorce itself had been rough on him, as any divorce was, Cloud was sure; but he and Zack had been open with Denzel from the beginning. _Yes, we still love each other—but as friends. No, we're not fighting. No, we're not mad at each other. Yes, we will both still be here with you, and we'll be here for each other._

He'd come a long way in two years. Cloud was proud of him.

He was proud of Tifa, too, and kissed her cheek. "I've thanked you a million times," Cloud began.

"So you don't need to do it again," Tifa answered. She bumped her forehead against his, and tugged gently at the front of Cloud's shirt. Cloud hadn't specified whether he was thanking her for taking him in after he left the home he shared with Zack, or thanking her for what had gotten them here in the first place, for offering to be his and Zack's surrogate. He'd thanked her for both many times at this point.

Tifa was never going to birth any other child. Both aromantic and asexual, Tifa was uninterested in searching for or having a partner of her own. She and Cloud had fucked six separate times, eight years ago, trying for pregnancy, something she had viewed like a really weird biology experiment. They'd both gotten a kick out of it; Tifa said it wasn't awful because it was Cloud, her best and oldest friend, though nothing she'd like to do ever again. Denzel came along nine months later and that was that.

Cloud loved his unconventional family desperately. With his whole heart. With everything he had. In a variety of complicated ways.

It was good. So good.

He bumped Tifa's forehead back in return and rubbed her arm with his thumb. She had to get the bar ready.

Cloud and Denzel continued to help out until the bar opened, and then both disappeared upstairs, to the apartment above. Cloud and Tifa had very strict rules about Denzel being allowed in the bar during open hours—simply that he wasn't, unless he was with Cloud, Tifa, Zack, or one of the other employees, who knew to look out for him. A small child surrounded by drunk adults; it was a bad combination.

Denzel was good about it though, and had his TV, some gaming systems, a ton of books, and his own room. And now—he also had homework. Or, rather, _Cloud_ did, this night.

True to his expectations Denzel was snoozing within an hour of going upstairs. As the crash from all that sugar and caffeine hit him his eyes drooped and his hands on his game controller grew sluggish, and he started tilting sideways onto the couch. Once his breathing had evened out Cloud carried him to his bedroom, got him out of his fancy clothes and into some pajamas, and let him be.

There was no kitchen in this apartment, with the large, fancy one downstairs. Cloud sat at table in the 'living room' (half of it was Cloud's room, a bed separated by dividers) and opened up Mr. Leonhart's folder.

Now that he thought about it… it was good Denzel had told him about what he'd said to his class. Squall knew Cloud was divorced. If he hadn't, and was flirting with a (presumably) married man… what an asshole. Cloud let it slide, twisting his mouth as he opened the folder. The first thing enclosed was a letter to guardians. They'd gotten one over the summer, sort of, that was also addressed to the kids, instructing them about their homework assignment, a 'personal narrative' about the big things to happen to them over the summer.

This one was just to adults, welcoming them, saying Leonhart was pleased to have their children with him, and that they had a lot in store for the coming year. Yadda yadda yadda.

Over the summer they'd filled out forms with emergency contact information and the like. These were mostly about what guardians thought their child might need in terms of education… because it would take time for Leonhart to get to know every kid, and it would be better if he could get a head start.

There was a multiple-choice questionnaire. Cloud smiled as he pulled it out; he really was back in school, huh…? (The thought made his heart hurt a bit, _school_ —he ruthlessly pushed the feeling back and refocused on the packet in front of him.)

 _Your child likes to learn by:  
a) playing games (eg. Fraction Fissure, Esuna the Elephant, Deusericus Vocab Bingo)  
b) incorporating exercise  
c) taking turns being the teacher  
d) all of the above_

Cloud circled _d) all of the above_. Denzel responded well to trying out new things, and things that kept his brain occupied. What he liked _least_ was a traditional method of teaching where he sat in his seat and tried to pay attention. He'd seen Denzel's papers from last year, littered with small doodles of people with 'geostigma,' a disease in a fantasy world he'd invented. _Save it for your first dystopian novel, kid,_ Zack had told him.

Zack…

Cloud frowned, tapping the eraser of the pencil he'd grabbed against his lips. Earlier Zack had been… needy. Obviously. When they divorced they'd said that they weren't going to hook up anymore, weren't going to play that awkward dance some divorced couples did, where they bounced back and forth between being 'done forever' and 'dating again.' That always fucked their kids up.

There was no question—there were no romantic feelings between Zack Fair (once Zack Strife) and Cloud Strife. But… they'd started out, back when Cloud was in college, as best friends who fucked all the time, to boyfriends, to husbands. It was surprisingly easy to fall back into 'best friends,' those who knew perfectly every inch of the others' body, knew exactly how they liked to come most after years of dating and marriage… that physicality had never died. Sometimes Cloud still looked at Zack and really _felt_ it, the urge to throw him down and slide off his jeans and…

Cloud sighed, raking a hand through his spikes. Since their divorce Zack had never been extremely happy. He'd _loved_ married life, and was suffering a string of mediocre dates and had been for two years. Cloud knew it frustrated Zack, seeing Cloud so 'content' with living modestly at Seventh Heaven, with very no dates and no energy spent looking for a new partner.

Cloud wasn't nearly as content with it all as he let on, but that hardly mattered. That wasn't what Zack saw. Zack wanted to be someone's husband again—and he'd been so damn _good_ at it, too. Zack was a _fantastic_ lover, a doting, loveable dad, just a caring, magnetic person…

Cloud was frustrated too, though. He was stumbling through this single dad thing, loving Tifa's support and fiercely adoring his son, but stumbling all the same. It was hard sometimes, navigating what to do with Zack. It was hard keeping Denzel in a cramped apartment above a loud and occasionally rowdy bar. It was hard being the parent to receive child support; Zack made so much more money. It was hard having Denzel be more dazzled with the parent who could afford to buy him the things he wanted, take him to the beach, and had the vacation hours to do so.

That insecurity welled and welled inside Cloud, until he was getting up from the table, and tiptoeing into Denzel's room. His son looked very small under his blankets.

Cloud cared a ton—but was that enough? He put his all into raising Denzel—but could he ever keep up with Zack, who seemed like he was born to be a father? Would—

He forced himself to leave. He looked back at the packet. He answered the questions, trying his hardest to think of Denzel as a person, not just someone he was tasked with keeping safe and bringing up to adulthood.

The final question: _as a parent/guardian, are you interested in?_

 _a) helping with special events (eg. Valentine's Day party, Special Person's Day)  
b) joining Home & School Council  
c) volunteering during field trips (eg. Junon Aquarium visit, Mideel Watershed)  
d) none of the above  
e) all of the above_

There were steps he could take. If he wanted to be the best dad he could be—if he wanted to be as good a dad as Zack, or even better—it all started somewhere. Zack had always been the one to get involved with Denzel's extra-curriculars and all this… complicated school shit.

Cloud glanced over the list again, the point of the pencil hovering over the different options. The indecision was a nightmare.

Eventually he circled the last option, _e) all of the above._


	3. Chapter 3

Zack's alarm was going off, and he was grateful for it. It was the second one in just a few minutes. A small message flashed on his phone screen— _take pill three._ There was a third coming in another five minutes, in case he forgot or got distracted between now and then.

That's not what he told the woman seated beside him on the couch, though. He stared at his screen and made surprise flash across his face. "There it goes again," he said. "I really do have to go call my son now."

It was hard to argue with someone who had to go make a child happy. Leliana was pretty, and a friend of Kunsel's, and they'd had a nice dinner after work, and even come back to Zack's place… and though the kisses they'd shared on this couch were nice, Zack really wasn't looking forward to anything beyond that. He was using his son as a cowardly excuse to send his date home.

Leliana looked a bit disappointed, and Zack didn't blame her. He felt like shit.

"Sorry," he apologized, hanging his head a bit. Out came the puppy eyes, and the sad turning-down of his mouth and—

Her hand came down on his knee. "That's okay," she said. "I'm sure he'll be happy to hear from you."

"Mm." Zack saw her out, and kissed her goodbye on the doorstep, because it seemed like a romantic thing to do. Leliana left amicably but did not offer any quick, empty sentences about seeing him again. Zack was fine with that.

When his most recent date was gone, Zack peeked out the curtain until her car was too. The driveway was now empty other than his own. A little emptier than usual, too; the mailbox was gone. His phone ringing startled him, and he took it out of his pocket, peering curiously at the screen. _Take third pill._ Oh—he'd forgotten.

He did so, stomping around his kitchen and turning off the tap with more force than necessary. He even thunked his empty water glass down on the counter hard enough that it echoed in the big, empty house. He got startled again, a bit.

Zack sat on his couch and booted up his laptop, pulling up his notes for tomorrow's interviews. He was third-in-command of HR at AVALANCHE and conducted most of the hiring for the entry-level positions at various branches across Midgar. He had cover letters sitting in front of him, and a few resumes, and he'd read them all before, of course… but he couldn't concentrate.

"Man," he groaned, tilting his head back. The couch was leather, really nice and plush. He and Denzel had taken dozens of naps together on it when Denzel was younger (and still did, sometimes). He and Cloud had fucked on it just as often. Zack was struck with a vivid memory of sitting in this very seat, facing the TV… but paying attention instead to the naked blond in his lap, bouncing on Zack's cock, his chest flushed from pleasure, his lips parted in a gasp.

Ugh, he was so _horny_ these days.

These Gaia-awful dates sucked big time. Yeah, he'd met some people he was really attracted to, and he'd gone on more than one date with a few… but people like Leliana, bless her, just didn't bring to the table what he wanted. She worked at a law firm downtown. Stable, boring—like _him_. That's not what he _needed_.

He wondered what Cloud was doing. Denzel must have been happy having his Dad pick him up from his first day of school that afternoon. Gaia knew Denzel loved Fenrir. Cloud, with his ripped uniform sleeves and his fancy motorcycle and his cool attitude had always appealed to Zack—Cloud found a way to go against the grain even while also conforming to the 'grow up, start a family, work for that family' rhetoric they all heard.

Zack was a conformer through and through. Being both a dad and husband had been the most precious, wonderful thing for him. He was still a kickass dad (if he did say so himself) and still had Cloud and Tifa—their platonic relationships, although unconventional, were just as valid, just as important, as any others.

But _damn_ if he wasn't lonely. Having his best friend back was wonderful but didn't satisfy other cravings Zack had.

At least some of those cravings were easier than others to satisfy. Wednesday night he was visiting Seventh Heaven for a family dinner. With luck, he'd manage to get Cloud alone for half an hour.

That lifelong, precious intimacy spent with a romantic partner—ehhh, that was a little harder to come by.

After struggling with the cover letters for a little while Zack decided to hit the hay. The next day, like all other days, was boring. The interviews were decent, though no one floored him. He was an easygoing guy and put people at ease. The constant scribbling he did on their resumes tended to intimidate people, but Zack hardly cared; he had to get his thoughts down about them now or he risked forgetting important details about their work history as he multitasked doing that along with prompting them for more information and keeping that wide, charming smile.

Cloud sent him a picture of Denzel at the end of the day, after picking him up from school. There was spilled paint all over his t-shirt and the caption, _didn't realize they were painting themselves today, and not their art projects._

It made him laugh, stuck in traffic at a red light on the way home.

Goodness, he loved those two… there was a picture somewhere of Denzel as a baby, utterly covered in spaghetti sauce and noodles. He'd had the same guilty expression on his face.

The mailbox with their handprints—back before the divorce—was propped up against the wall in the entryway of his was a small thing, yet it seemed to take up so much space, inevitably drawing Zack's gaze towards it again and again like a black hole.

 _Black holes,_ Zack could hear in Cloud's voice, _are often formed when supermassive stars expand upon nearly depleting their hydrogen. The core turns to iron and eventually explodes—supernova—and their own gravity causes them to collapse back in on themselves. All that mass is suddenly compressed into an extremely tiny, dense space… creating a black hole with a gravitational pull so strong not even radiation or light can escape._

Zack muttered aloud, "I guess we did supernova, huh."

And Cloud's gravity did pull him in, again and again. Zack sighed, tossing his work stuff onto the couch. He didn't have the energy ( _the law of conservation of energy—it cannot be created nor be destroyed)_ to deal with it.

He went upstairs to shower and relax, but a knock at his door brought him back down. He was dressed but his hair was still wet. He shook it out and wiped the wet strands out of his face as he looked out the peephole. It was a man he'd never seen before, and he was holding something in his hands. Didn't look menacing.

Zack cautiously opened the door, the warm air from outside feeling nice on his bare feet. He shifted awkwardly in his sweatpants and t-shirt as he eyed the guy on his doorstep. "Hello?"

"Ah, hi," said the man. He was the same height as Zack standing on the step three inches or so below the floor of his house. Dark hair, scruff. A t-shirt that read _OH SNAP!_ with a tiny image of green peas. He shifted an aluminum-foil covered dish to one hand and held out his freed one. "My name's Angeal. I live next door."

Zack shook, glancing to the right, where Angeal had nodded his head. _Oh_.

Angeal laughed rather nervously at the look that flashed over Zack's face. "Right—I moved in yesterday. A friend of mine arrived in the moving truck before I got here, and hit your mailbox. Firstly, I wanted to apologize—so, here." He held out the dish. It was heavy and in a glass pan. Zack squinted at him and peeked under the aluminum foil.

"It's an apple pie," Angeal said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I hope that's okay."

"Hell yeah that's okay. This looks great, man."

"Good." Angeal sounded very relieved. "I am sorry for his behavior. When Genesis knows he's in the wrong he tends to… shut down at first, and deny any involvement. By the time I showed up—I'm guessing you were at work—he was incredibly apologetic. Secondly—I'd like to fix your mailbox for you, if you'll let me."

"No, you don't have to do that," Zack said, on polite reflex more than anything else.

"I'd like to. What a terrible way to make a first impression in the new neighborhood, you know?"

Zack frowned at the man, who was frowning quite severely back at him. This guy really did seem… awfully torn up about it. Maybe he was worried this was the kind of neighborhood where everyone gossiped; maybe Zack had already told all the other neighbors that whoever moved into 417 was an absolute asshole who they should all shun. Maybe the local kids could 'conveniently' TP his house next month, for mischief night…

After shaking his head a bit, to derail his overactive imagination, Zack said, "No, really, man—it's cool. That mailbox… it kinda felt like it needed to go down, you know?"

Angeal's brows drew together even more; it was impossible that he understood what Zack was saying… but he did not interrupt. Zack sighed, staring at his reflection in the aluminum foil. It was little more than blurred colors. "I need to think about whether I want it to go back up. It's… a weird, complicated story, man. Sorry."

"Okay," Angeal said, accepting it, just like that.

"But if you really feel that bad about it," Zack said, looking back up, "I can think of something around here I'd want you to do, I guess? I'm not so good at all that fix-it stuff." _Cloud had been the handyman around this house._

"I'm good with my hands. Anything you need—I'll figure it out. Again, I am sorry about that."

Zack smiled, amused by the genuineness in Angeal's expression. "It's not _your_ fault."

"Genesis can be a handful sometimes. I've gotten good at damage control."

Both men chuckled. Then there was a slightly awkward pause, as both realized their conversation had gotten a little too casual. Angeal thwapped his thighs with the flats of his palms. "Well," he said, his tone trailing upward at the end, "When you think of it, I'm just next door. Enjoy the pie. And it was nice to meet you, Zack."

"You too, Angeal." Zack shook his hand again, perfect firmness, a nice smile, eye contact—like a handshake should be, plus a little extra. He leant in a bit and bumped their shoulders, a true 'guy greeting' as Denzel called it. "Welcome to the neighborhood. It's a nice place."

"Seems it, so far. I haven't gotten crucified for my best friend knocking down a mailbox, which is a pretty good sign it's a nice place."

Zack laughed. "Night."

Zack watched Angeal head back to his house, through the curtain. He'd been doing that a lot lately, watching people from the empty safety of his house. Angeal's house was fairly identical to his… Zack wondered if there was anybody else inside. Maybe a wife, maybe a baby—Angeal seemed like he'd be good with babies. Zack had been so out of his depth when he and Cloud were first allowed to see Tifa and baby Denzel, resting together in the hospital. Denzel had been so small, and Zack's heart had been ramming in his chest when that first, sleepy fist closed around his fingertip.

He shook himself out of it. He hoped Angeal wasn't alone in his big house like Zack was.

* * *

The next morning, as Zack unlocked his car door, a loud noise made him look up. He glanced at Angeal's house. It was pretty bare still; the colored curtains and plants in the windowsills, all those personal touches, were still due to come. Angeal's backyard had a fence where Zack's did not, though—the last owner had kept a dog.

The loud noise came again. Zack craned his neck. Peeking at him between the wooden slats of the fence were two furry snouts.

"Oh, _perfect_ ," Zack breathed.

* * *

"Is that _beer_?" Zack asked as he entered the room. His hands fell to his hips and his face contorted into a deep, exaggerated frown.

Denzel, sitting at one of the bar stools and sipping something out of a glass, said, "It's apple juice." Zack had totally gotten him—the kid looked spooked.

"Just messin' with ya." He strolled further inside Seventh Heaven. Cloud and Tifa must have been in the kitchen, getting things ready for their dinner. They tried to do this at least once every week with all four of them. Denzel raised one arm for a hug as Zack got close. Zack squeezed him, dropping a kiss to the top of his head. Denzel had spent a lot of time observing how people acted in the bar. His casual posture, the way he cradled his juice in one hand, and even the easy way he'd lifted one arm to greet his Papa hello without looking too uninterested in his drink or the bar around him had been learned. It was cute as fuck.

"How has school been?" he asked.

"Awesome," Denzel said, shrugging again in a way that wasn't natural at all. He still had to practice that gesture, but the way he crossed one leg over the other and fixed Zack with his full attention was hysterical. Kid was a riot. "Y'know how everyone kept saying that Mr. Leonhart was the best teacher in second grade?"

"Do I ever. He's, like, a celebrity. Maybe he'll put out an album next month and model on _Vogue_ and—"

Denzel looked mortified. "Stooop," he said, wiggling one leg as if he was going to kick his father. "I was just gonna say that they were right!"

"He's that good, huh…" Zack sat on the stool beside him, elbows down on the countertop. "You think I could be better if I tried to teach second grade?"

"Sure," Denzel said. It totally sounded like he was saying it to be nice, and not because he genuinely thought so. Zack snorted.

Denzel filled him in on some of the second grader gossip as they waited for the other two. Nuan had gotten glue all over Khushi's art project and Khushi said that they weren't _friends anymore_ and Nuan had cried.

"Riveting stuff," Zack said under his breath. Denzel did not hear him, and kept talking about gym class in that way that all children do—breathlessly, with rambling tangents, not realizing that their story was now four minutes long and the eyes of whoever they were speaking to were glazing over.

Zack did his best to focus on what Denzel was saying, though, jiggling his feet on the metal foot rest under the bar. Cloud and Tifa soon came out with plates of pasta and breadsticks for all of them, much to his relief.

"Good to see you two," Zack said. He was so damn hungry. Dinner on these nights had to be early, because the bar opened at five. Other than the half-bagel he'd had to take his meds with at lunchtime he otherwise skipped food so he'd have an appetite this early in the evening. They all relocated to a booth—Zack loved doing this, they really felt like a four-person family out for a special evening—and got down to business.

That day at school Denzel learned about the planets in the solar system. He'd learned them in first grade but had forgotten some things about them over the summer. Cloud's eyes lit up and he leaned closer to Denzel, asking him all sorts of questions about which planet was his favorite, and _did you know that Odin's red spot is the size of 15 Gaias? Yes, it's_ that _big, Denz!_

Zack was having trouble focusing himself, because Cloud had slid one of his legs between his own, and was playing footsie with him under the table.

He hadn't tried to mask the longing on his face when Cloud and Tifa came out from the kitchen before. He'd assumed that they were going to fuck tonight, since he made it fairly clear he wanted to when Cloud visited him in his office at lunch two days ago. Looked like Cloud was on board.

"How do you like his teacher, by the way?" Zack asked. "He seemed like a cool guy."

"Huh?" Cloud blinked rapidly, staring at him. "Oh. He's—cool, yeah. We've had a few conversations, when I drop Denzel off or pick him up."

"That's nice," Tifa said, twirling noodles around her fork. Denzel liked this particular sauce cheesy as hell, and thick with it. Tifa, as usual, had made it deliciously.

"Yeah," Cloud said, still blinking. Zack tapped his foot against Cloud's shin, knocking him out of whatever place he'd gone off to.

Cloud was eating his meal very quickly, too—Zack got the point, and scarfed down his food as well. It was 4:20something. Bar opened at five. Tifa sent them both an odd look, and Zack grinned sheepishly. She got the point, and sighed audibly, but nodded her head.

"I have exciting news," Zack said a minute later. The other three glanced at him. "My new neighbor has _dogs_."

Denzel's hands came up to cover his mouth. "The one who hit our mailbox?"

Cloud asked, "Hit the mailbox?"

Zack raised a finger. "His _friend_ hit the mailbox, Denz—don't worry, we don't hafta live next to _that guy_. His name's Angeal, and he baked me a pie, and he has _two_ dogs. Maybe we can ask him if you can pet them tomorrow, buddy."

Denzel seemed dazzled. Cloud was still frowning about not knowing about the mailbox thing, but Zack chose to ignore it. He sucked down the rest of his food, swiped the last bit of his breadstick in the cheese sauce on the bottom of the plate, ate that too, and slid out of the booth. Cloud did as well.

"Your dad and I gotta take care of something upstairs," Zack said. "We'll be down to get you before the bar opens."

He sent Tifa another apologetic look and disappeared upstairs with Cloud. When they first met they'd always be the type to stumble inside after being out together, laughing and touching each other, furiously kissing as soon as the door to one of their dorms had shut behind them. They were similar now; Zack grabbed Cloud's shirt and pulled him in as soon as they'd descended the steps to Tifa's apartment.

Kissing Cloud felt like coming home. The problem was, 'home' was a complicated concept for them now, because it wasn't _Tifa's apartment_ they were in at all, but _Tifa, Cloud's, and Denzel's_ too. Just as his home also belonged to Denzel… it was no longer Cloud's.

He walked forward with Cloud walking backwards, stumbling slightly, chuckling against his lips. They both had garlicy, cheesy breath but it didn't matter; the meal was still recent enough that it kind of smelled…tasty. The thought had Zack laughing even more as they reached the bed and Cloud fell back onto it.

He'd changed out of his work uniform into casual clothes, and Zack delighted in getting him out of it. Years ago, he and Cloud had often made sex a very long affair. Lots of foreplay, never rushing, slowly and sensuously getting each other out of their clothes, trailing kisses along every bit of skin that was slowly revealed. Prep was tender and nearly as good as the rest of the show. A double-feature, perhaps. They'd fuck until they were both spent, and lie there together for a long time nuzzling and kissing and just talking—about stupid stuff, about important stuff, about anything.

But although now they recognized that even then, it likely hadn't been _romantic,_ just _intimate_ —doing something that… meaningful felt wrong.

It was one thing to justify hooking up in secret after your divorce to get each other off, because neither was in a relationship yet and they knew ( _very well_ ) how to make the other come with efficiency. It was another to do all the things that society always coded as romantic… the extended cuddling, the dreamy petting and nuzzles with kisses pressed to the shell of ears, complete with a soft laugh or a tickle… He and Cloud still could do that, yeah.

But it was too weird now, so they did not. Zack yanked off Cloud's pants and underwear where years ago he might slide the jeans down and mouth at Cloud's cock through his underwear, teasing him, making him hard and straining against the fabric. He'd eventually slide it down, slowly, kissing the head of that pretty cock as it finally sprang free. Cloud would gasp and buck his hips, trying to drive more of his shaft into Zack's mouth.

Instead Cloud grabbed at it, jerking himself into hardness as Zack then shucked off his own pants and pulled his shirt over his head. Zack was 34—soon he'd be hard-pressed to keep his physique. Cloud didn't care about any of that. He spread his legs and caged Zack in with them as Zack lowered his body on top of Cloud's.

They kissed for a bit. It was hot and wet, deep and familiar, and soothing, too. Cloud grabbed the side of his face, his touch firm, guiding him. He knew just how Zack liked _everything_. Zack rolled his hips, rocking their hard cocks against each other, making Cloud squirm beneath him.

Soon Cloud shifted, rolling them both over. He settled on Zack's hips, Zack's cock resting against the curve of his ass. He was so damn hot—Zack's greedy hands fell to Cloud's thighs. He always would be hot, to Zack.

"Lemme get the stuff," Cloud breathed. His hair was a mess, those blue eyes hazy with pleasure and narrowed at him, taking him in as Cloud got off him and went to the end table. They used condoms now, another change in their sex life. They had not before when both were monogamous. Zack had slept with probably a dozen people in the two years after the divorce, though. He didn't think Cloud had fucked anyone at all…other than him. Zack got tested regularly, of course, but they weren't foolish teens anymore. They'd both had some close calls back then. Cloud's one girlfriend in high school had a pregnancy scare that was so bad Cloud had sworn up and down for years and years he never wanted kids.

Obviously, that changed.

Cloud crooked back Zack's leg. Zack put his hand behind his knee, keeping it in place, so Cloud could spread lube over his fingers and work one, and then two, inside Zack. It had been a little while; most of Zack's dates these days were women, just being how it worked out. Most of the guys around where he lived on dating sites were married and closeted, wanting a guy to fuck on the DL. No thanks.

He had Cloud, though, who was careful with him. Zack jerked his cock as Cloud stretched him out. It was like his body remembered Cloud doing this all the times he had in the years they were together. The familiarity made him relax more easily.

On went the condom and on went more lube. Zack pulled his leg back a little closer to his chest. Cloud tilted them, so Zack was half on his side and half facing upward, pressed up against his back, and he pressed in.

"Shit," Zack gasped. The stretch around the flared head of Cloud's cock was so fucking good. "Ugh, Cloud…"

There were a few gentle thrusts, slow, slick glidings of Cloud's dick into him. Cloud fucked him open as his gaze raked hot over Zack's body.

"We have fifteen minutes," Zack gasped, catching sight of the clock in the living room. "Go for it."

Even with the time constraints it still wasn't fast enough to hurt Zack or some porn-worthy pounding. Cloud was steady, even if his thighs were trembling. Zack timed the rolls of Cloud's hips with his pumping of his own dick and groaned, digging his head back into the pillow.

A hundred images flashed past his mind's eye, of him and Cloud fucking in the past, in all the delicious positions that had gotten him off before. His wank material, regrettably enough, was always Cloud these days. The position was awesome but cramped his hip after a few minutes so Zack got on his knees, pressing his cheek to the soft sheets of Cloud's bed.

His fists grabbed the cotton as Cloud pushed into him again. The blond had his strong hands on the curve of Zack's ass, grabbing at him, making him feel desirable and a little bit used, just how he liked. Zack reached down with one arm and grabbed at his hanging dick, working it, rubbing the tip with his thumb and jacking himself off fast.

The quick, intense fuck had Zack coming before long. He muffled his groan into the sheets, working his dick until the spurts of come turned to dribbles, and then a drop, and then nothing. He turned his head, pushing sweaty hair out of his eyes, to peer back at Cloud as best he could. The man's breathing was labored and he was hunched over Zack now, rutting against his ass like coming inside it was the singular thought he could grasp onto.

Cloud stilled as he came, like he always had. He shuddered and panted, resting his forehead against Zack's back. Then he pulled out.

When the condom was off and tied Zack pulled Cloud down for a cuddle. They had about a minute. A minute wasn't _too_ weird, wouldn't seem _too_ much like the old days, when at least they were convinced they were in love even if they weren't.

They kissed, noses brushing, hands coming up to pet cheeks and gently tuck hair behind ears and off foreheads.

"Time to go, Papa," Cloud eventually sighed. He pulled away from Zack, looking like it hurt him a bit to do so, which made Zack feel a little better.

They got dressed. They gathered everything for Denzel's backpack. Zack would have Denzel for the next couple days. Just before they went back downstairs Zack thought that maybe he'd kiss Cloud again, just because he wanted to, no other ulterior motive—but he ended up not doing it.

Tifa had a frown waiting for them but she didn't say anything. "Ready to go?" Zack asked, shouldering Denzel's backpack. Denzel had been quietly watching Tifa and today's part-timer, a Midgar U student named Ashley, set up. "Yeah," he said, hopping down from the stool.

Zack took Denzel's hand. There was something so calming about Denzel squeezing his hand, holding on… as a baby, in those first five minutes of meeting Denzel, it had melted Zack's heart. It still did something similar today.

They left and piled into Zack's car. "Maybe Angeal's dogs will be outside when we get home," he said, filling silence that was awkward only to him with nervous chatter, "They seemed pretty cute. Not sure what breed they were though. You think you'd be able to tell if you saw 'em?"

"I know all the dog breeds," Denzel replied. He was already on his new game system Zack had bought him over the summer.

Zack snorted. Cocky kid. He thought of smirking lips pressed against the curve of his shoulder. Just like his dad.


	4. Chapter 4

Sunday was usually Cloud's day.

There was no mail, nor package deliveries on Sundays, so he never had to work. If he had Denzel that day they would usually go out and do something. The science departments at MU often had speakers come—Cloud had taken Denzel there to listen to astronauts, astronomers, chemists, theoretical physicists… a lot of it went over Denzel's head but occasionally he picked up some things. He was fostering a love of science in his son, though, which was the most important thing.

Maybe Denzel would go somewhere with it… unlike him.

If it was a Sunday where he didn't have Denzel, Cloud usually relaxed. Maybe he'd go for a walk through the park in the center of the city, trying to chill out. Maybe he'd nap. Maybe he and Tifa would go on one of their 'dates,' and check out any fights happening down at the arena a couple blocks down. Tifa adored kickboxing and the like, and was even on friendly terms with a few of the local stand-outs. She always joked that they were welcome at Seventh Heaven but a punch from them could be deadly, so she'd be watching them.

Right after the divorce he and Zack had settled on the typical _you keep him for a week, I keep him for a week_ thing. But it turned out that Denzel missed whatever parent he wasn't seeing for a whole week, and that they missed each other, too. So over time they'd worked out a system where they compared schedules at the beginning of each week or two and worked out clumps of days where they got to be with Denzel. Cloud, Monday morning through Thursday morning, for example; Zack, Thursday evening through Saturday morning; et cetera, et cetera.

Cloud was on his own until Monday afternoon, when he was to pick Denzel up from school. He hadn't heard from him since Wednesday evening, after their family dinner.

And, truthfully, it had been a strange past couple days.

"Are you and Zack ever going to stop fucking?"

Cloud had zoned out in front of the television. The Sunday morning cartoons Denzel liked were on even though his son wasn't present. Tifa was leaning in the doorway, her arms crossed, not judging him but just… curious.

"I dunno," Cloud said, shrugging. He patted the seat beside him and Tifa sat down. She shifted a bit closer, looking at him, gauging if he wanted this—Cloud did, and stretched out an arm. They stretched out on the couch together, Tifa's head resting against his shoulder. Tifa loved to snuggle, though she was uninterested in anything further than that, and Cloud was one of the very few people she'd feel comfortable doing this with.

Cloud held her close, and she managed to get even closer, with legs nestling together just right and her arm slipping through the small space between the small of Cloud's back and the arm of the couch. Cloud slowly rubbed her arm, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

"Thanks for being such a good friend," he sighed, and kissed her hair. "And for not, y'know, giving Zack and me shit about it."

"I wouldn't," Tifa answered. "I know what the situation is, and everything. If it was anything other than platonic sex I'd have some objections… and it isn't really often, either."

"It's definitely platonic." Cloud sighed, thinking of the way he and Zack were so careful to _prove_ that it was just platonic as if someone was watching, even though they both were secure in it already. Far fewer kisses, no praise murmured into ears anymore… it was still so fun, and Cloud still got the thrill of sleeping with his best friend, so it wasn't bad, or anything. Just different. It would have been better without that awkwardness, though.

The two of them fell quiet for a little while. Tifa peered under Cloud's chin at the cartoons. She thought most of them were boring, unlike Cloud who had a soft spot for nearly all of them. Cloud listened to the sounds of her breathing, feeling her chest and ribcage move against him with each inhale and exhale. He wasn't tired, but Cloud closed his eyes. He was comfortable like this; he could sleep.

"…Cloud?" Tifa asked eventually. Cloud grunted. "I'd like to ask you a question. You might not like it."

"Okay. Shoot."

"Do you think that it's this... _thing_ with Zack that's holding you back from moving on and finding someone new?"

Cloud blinked his eyes open at the directness of it. "I don't think so," he answered. Then he paused. Tifa just waited, still watching the TV, now on a commercial. Cloud swallowed. "I wouldn't say he's 'holding me back,' but…"

"He's safe, right?" Tifa prompted when Cloud couldn't find the words to express himself.

"Yeah, I guess. It's like… I have the most important things I need. Denzel. You. Zack too. I haven't really felt the need to go lookin'. Denzel doesn't really need another mom or dad."

"No, I wouldn't say he _needs_ one. But it's not just about the 'most important' things that you or Denzel _need,_ is it? Let me guess—you're doing that thing where there's 'less important' things on your mind that you're ignoring because you've convinced yourself they don't matter."

"Tifa…"

"I noticed you stopped looking at schools," she said.

Cloud sucked in a breath. He'd done more than stop looking at schools—he'd stopped looking for new jobs, too. Where in the first year after his divorce Cloud had been motivated to re-invent himself, in the second year… he'd accepted his place in life. These days, he was just trying to…get used to it.

"To answer your first question," he muttered, pressing half his face into her hair, "I had a few dates at first…you know that. Never went anywhere. I guess maybe I have been thinking that, you know, even if I never re-marry… I'll still always have Zack. He'll be there to fuck if I ever get that itch. I haven't even gotten, like… a crush on anybody in over a year."

"Zack's jealous, you know," Tifa pointed out. "He thinks you're _happy_ and content and he's pissed that he's trying so hard and not getting anywhere."

Irritation flashed across Cloud's face. "Zack's not trying hard. He's going on dozens of dates with people he _knows_ he isn't into 'cause he thinks that's what he's supposed to do, to find a husband or wife, or whatever. It's the boring suburban thing, you know? All his dates don't have any…goals, just to… you know…"

Cloud trailed off. It was starting to sound like he was describing himself, lately.

" _He's_ that type. He works his job and makes his money and wants a family in the big house with the picket fence. But he doesn't want a partner with the same goals."

Tifa's soft laughter brought a reluctant smile to Cloud's face. "That sounds…like he doesn't know how the real world works yet. And conflicting."

"Zack needs to figure his shit out," Cloud confirmed. "How's he supposed to have his family _and_ somebody who doesn't want a family? Eventually it'll hit him."

"And you?"

It took Cloud a while to answer. "I don't think going back to school is the best decision for me, right now. I… have other things I need to focus on." He added, after a pause, "Seriously. This is me having thought about this for a long time."

"I won't let you give up on that, Cloud. Eventually you're going to finish undergrad."

"Yeah." Cloud nodded. "Please don't let me give up."

"I won't," Tifa promised again.

That could have been the end of the conversation, but something made Cloud speak up one last time. "Actually," he said, "I think I'm getting a crush on somebody."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Cloud couldn't help but chuckle. "It's—obviously—silly, but Denzel's new teacher is hot."

Tifa snorted again. "Really?"

"Mm. I dunno how to describe it." Cloud smiled against the top of Tifa's head, kind of glad she couldn't see it. "Like, I get anxious right before I go into the room to pick Denzel up or drop him off. I don't know why. And he always makes a point of leaving whatever he was doing to come over to talk to me. He's a nice guy."

"It's been so long you probably forget what having a crush is like," Tifa huffed.

"Yeah, well, you wouldn't even know at all."

Tifa lifted her head, staring at him. "Does Mr. Strife want to fight?"

"No," Cloud said, but it was too late—Tifa's fists were hitting him now. It was entirely playful, so they didn't hurt, but every time Cloud tried to wiggle of the couch Tifa would cage him in with an arm or leg and then _thwap, thwap_ , more soft bumps of her fists against his chest.

"The birth mother of my child," Cloud groaned, letting his head tilt back into the void, "She treats me so horribly."

"It's because I wanted Denzel to have brown hair, like all us Lockharts. He got this pretty mix of both of ours instead. My mom was so disappointed."

Cloud batted away another incoming punch. "And maybe _I_ wanted him to have blue eyes."

Tifa ruffled his hair. She nestled down on top of him again, wrapping one of Cloud's arms around her waist. "Guess it's nothing worth fighting about now. Might as well be happy."

"Might as well," Cloud agreed.

* * *

Cloud had downplayed his sudden, uh, interest in Squall Leonhart quite a bit when talking with Tifa.

He wasn't some young adult infatuated with a celebrity; it wasn't like that. He didn't have Mr. Leonhart constantly on his mind; it wasn't like that, either. He wasn't drawing hearts with their initials in them at work; it definitely wasn't like that.

But when he said he got anxious right before walking into room 2-8, he had lied slightly. It was more of a low-key all-day thing.

That first time he met Leonhart, on Denzel's first day, he'd felt a strange prickling down the back of his spine that hadn't let up until he and his son had gotten home. The second time, he'd forgotten all about it until he was face-to-face with the man again and then _boom_. Leonhart wasn't the type of gorgeous that made you stop in the street and stare. It was enough that you'd give him a second look, and then maybe a third, and even a fourth—and before long you couldn't _not_ look at him, as if trying to figure out what exactly it was that was so magnetic about him.

They'd had a conversation every time Cloud stopped in, and Cloud found himself thinking about the man on Monday at work.

It was in a self-indulgent, amused kind of way. Nothing would happen, of course… but the small butterflies in Cloud's stomach were fascinating, if nothing else. Maybe he _had_ let the knowledge of having Zack as a 'back-up' numb him a bit, these past two years. His first crush in a long time was just, he didn't know, kind of _fun_.

His stomach's somersaults grew in intensity until it was time to clock out, get on Fenrir, and drive to the edge of town to pick up Denzel. Room 2-8 was bustling today, even with only a few students left in the room.

Marlene was already gone; Cloud had passed Barret on the way in, and they'd had a conversation about the melting ice caps outside the Icicle area (well, melting icicles, too; Cloud hadn't laughed much at Barret's joke). Denzel was alone in the area by the books, on his knees as he gathered at least thirty books that had fallen to the ground.

Leonhart was in the back helping a girl pick up dirt that had fallen out of a tiny plastic up with a sprout in it. Cloud went to Denzel, crouching beside him. "Ah—I see you," he said, as Denzel haphazardly shoved the books back onto the shelf. Denzel's shoulders tightened and he looked up guiltily.

"Sorry, Dad," he whispered.

"It's okay. Let's put these back where they belong, yeah?" The books had colored dots on the spines to indicate what level they were, and different sections of the shelves held the different reading levels. The two of them organized the books and took the time to sort them, even putting others where they belonged that had been mis-sorted.

"Were you reading all these?"

"No." Denzel carefully stepped around Cloud to put one with a yellow dot on the right shelf. "Everyone at my table was here, and I guess we made a mess…"

"It's not a big deal if you take the time to clean it up. Which one's your favorite?"

Denzel showed him. It was one of the hardest levels, too, which made Cloud grin. Zack bought Denzel a lot of books, and all three adults in Denzel's life took the time to read with him, and have Denzel read to them. He was a bright kid. Worked hard.

As Denzel cracked open the book of one of his favorite series— _The Great Ninja Yuffie,_ this one was the volume _Hands off My Materia!—_ Cloud eased himself back onto his ass and sat cross-legged. Denzel's small brow was furrowed with concentration as he told Cloud about Yuffie, the nine-year-old protagonist who had a penchant for collecting things, because trinkets were how she kept memories of all the things she's done and places she's been. She was also a ninja, and frequently solved mysteries that involved her having to infiltrate places and save people.

Cloud smiled as he watched Denzel talk. He flipped through the chapters, showing him some of the illustrations. Yuffie was sometimes helped by a robot cat with an exaggerated accent. Denzel laughed as he read one of Cait Sith's jokes aloud.

"Are there a lot of books in this series?" Cloud asked him. "You want some more to have at home?"

Denzel nodded his head vigorously. Cloud gently punched his shoulder. "Okay. We'll see what we can do."

Something made him turn around. Leonhart was standing there, beside them, leaning against the other side of one of the low bookcases. "Oh," Cloud said, slightly spooked. He stood. There was nobody else in the room. He glanced at Denzel, who also seemed surprised. Rubbing the back of his neck, Cloud said, "Sorry, we lost track of time. You probably want to get home."

"It's alright." Leonhart shrugged. " _The Great Ninja Yuffie_ is your favorite series, Denzel?"

Denzel nodded, and sheepishly put his book back on the shelf. "I have good news for you," Leonhart continued, "We're actually reading the one where she goes to the Golden Saucer for storytime next week. Do you know that one?"

"That's one of my favorites," Denzel answered, wringing his hands as his mind whirled a hundred miles a minute. He had the mannerisms of an old man sometimes.

"Good. Maybe you can help me with it?"

Denzel seemed delighted by the idea. "You can keep reading for a minute," Leonhart added, "I want to talk to your Dad about something."

"Okay." Denzel nodded amicably and grabbed a different book in the series. There were a few squishy bean-bag chairs and he plopped into it.

Cloud followed Leonhart to the teacher's desk, his heart beating erratically in his chest. He felt like…shit, he didn't know—like he was in trouble and going to get scolded. It was an ingrained response that he apparently had not shook off over the years. Cloud had been an angry child, back in his hometown, Nibelheim. He'd had no friends other than Tifa and resented them all for it, thinking he was better than them and often getting into fights.

Leonhart tucked his hair behind one ear, drawing attention to the pale column of his neck. He had a sharply-defined jaw and wore a silver necklace that drew attention to his collarbones. There was no sweater vest today; he wore a button-up with the top two buttons undone. Cloud's stomach flipped yet again.

This was ridiculous.

"Had a good day?" Cloud asked, shifting on his feet. He stuck his hands into the back pockets of his work shorts and tried to look casual.

"Mm," Leonhart replied. He was rooting in his bag for something. "Survived it."

Cloud grinned to himself. That was the kind of deadpan answer he might have given. "I hope it isn't Denzel running you so ragged."

"Denzel's a wonderful kid," Leonhart said, glancing at Cloud briefly through his bangs. He was smiling now. "We've had one week of school and that much is obvious."

"…Thanks," Cloud said, touched and unsure what to say to that. "It's nice to hear his teacher say that."

Leonhart found whatever he was looking for, a stapled packet of paper, and pulled it out. He flipped to the last page. "I reviewed the first-day questionnaires at the end of last week. For the others who responded that they wanted to get more involved I sent forms home with their respective student, but…" he paused for a second, just long enough for Cloud to realize that the other man had to actually _think_ about how he was going to phrase the second half of his sentence. "I wasn't sure if you would get it, if I sent them home with Denzel." _Because Zack has been picking him up and dropping him off the past few days,_ Cloud noted. _It's a good bet that Zack and I don't live together, being divorced._ "I figured you would be back soon enough, and here you are, so."

Leonhart seemed slightly flustered. He pointed at Cloud's answer. "You circled _all of the above_ —so you're interested in assisting with events and field trips, as well as Home & School Council?"

Cloud shrugged, a bit awkwardly. "…I guess."

Leonhart looked at him a bit strangely. For someone who had given such an emphatic answer on paper, Cloud must have been perplexingly unenthused now. Cloud glanced at Denzel, curled up with his book, and then back at Leonhart. So damn _handsome_ , he was—his head was tilted slightly, causing brown bangs to drift in front of his eyes. Cloud stretched out his shoulders, needing something to do.

"I guess I haven't been as involved with Denzel's school life as I wish I could be," he confessed. "Figured… might as well start now. Go all in, you know?"

"Sure," Leonhart said. He did not sound judging or condescending but Cloud felt the need to explain himself anyway.

"It's—not that I don't go to his shit—er, stuff, sorry, or anything. I do. But his other dad works a lot and I figured… I've got more free time than him. Might as well."

Leonhart nodded, tucking more of his hair behind his ear again. "I'm sure Denzel would appreciate seeing you get more involved."

"Yeah. That's what I thought."

The teacher folded his arms. They looked good in his patterned shirt; the fabric stretched tighter over the muscles of his biceps. "For what it's worth, though… I've seen a lot of parents get afraid that they're losing their kid, and run themselves into the ground trying to be some kind of parent they can't be. Most of the time the child was fine the whole time."

Cloud did not answer, staring blankly at Leonhart's chest. His heartbeat thudded in his ears.

"…Sorry," Leonhart muttered after a moment, realizing he'd gone too far, or hit something too close to home, or that whatever it was that had just happened shouldn't have. "Why don't you try it, and we can meet again to discuss involvement if you want to drop something or have specific needs later?"

The teacher voice, the polite and slightly removed tone, came back halfway through that last sentence. He'd been talking to Cloud like a regular guy for a minute or two.

Cloud raked a hand through his hair, glancing at Denzel again. "I don't even know what the Home and School Council is."

Leonhart gave a small smile. "Me neither, really. I have the email of the woman in charge for you, though."

"Might as well," Cloud said again. Leonhart gave it to him.

"When we have things going on in the classroom that need some extra hands, I'll let you know."

A cheesy line about most _certainly_ having his hands available for Leonhart's use rose in his throat, and Cloud coughed quick to expel it. It was time to go. He turned to Denzel. "Thanks," he said, then, "You ready to go, bud?"

Denzel carefully put the book back in its proper spot on the shelf, knowing both adults were watching him. He grabbed his backpack from his cubby, and as he did so Cloud tried and failed not to watch Leonhart grab his things, too.

"I'll walk out with you two," he said.

Leonhart did just that. The three of them left the school after Leonhart closed down the room. He turned off the lights and Denzel said it was cool seeing the classroom so different. On the way out Leonhart asked Denzel if he was excited for some activity they were doing the next day. Denzel was, very much so. He was also clearly weirded out. Seeing your teacher as a _real person_ who existed _outside of the classroom_ was always vertigo-inducing for kids.

They drifted in the same direction for a minute out in the parking lot before Denzel and Cloud reached Fenrir. Leonhart had to keep going in this direction.

"See you tomorrow, Denzel," the teacher said. He wasn't quite managing to look Denzel in the eye as he said it. Distracted by a certain something.

Cloud lifted Denzel into his seat. "Bye, Mr. Leonhart."

Denzel didn't have to say anything for Cloud to know he got a kick out of his teacher seeing him on the back of such a unique bike. Fenrir had been custom-built from designs Cloud had been working on since he was fifteen. He had a satisfied little smile on his face. Cloud put on Denzel's helmet and flipped up the visor to lean in and kiss his nose.

"Dad!" Denzel said, embarrassed, and Cloud flipped the visor down with a bang.

That night, while Denzel was doing homework on the couch and Cloud was stretched out on it too, enjoying the most recent issue of _Popular Science,_ he asked Denzel how it went with Zack, and the most pressing question of all: "Did you get to pet those dogs?"

"No." Denzel was so clearly disappointed. "Papa said Angeal must have gone on vacation or a trip because his friend is over taking care of his dogs. It's the guy who hit our mailbox."

"What happened with that, by the way?" Cloud's legs went along the length of the couch, and he bumped his feet against Denzel's warm side. "You guys didn't tell me about it."

Denzel explained how a friend of Zack's new neighbor ( _Angeal_ ) had hit the mailbox with a moving truck while bringing most of Angeal's stuff down. The mailbox was inside the house now, Denzel said. Angeal made Zack a pie to say sorry and it was _delicious_ , but Papa had only left him a tiny, tiny slice…

Cloud only half-listened. He felt uneasy.

* * *

Four days later, on Friday morning, Cloud wobbled in place a bit, blinking sleep out of his eyes. The Home & School Council, he'd learned, were doing a baked goods sale to raise money for fourth grade's fall parade.

The lobby of the school was a bit eerie this early in the morning. The ceilings were tall to begin with and they seemed to loom over him now. Every footstep he and his five female companions took echoed, sounding sharp and menacing in the too-still environment, one that was supposed to be so full of life and movement.

He could hear Tifa's voice in his head. _You really need to get over your weirdness with schools, Cloud._

Cloud sighed in response to imaginary-Tifa. One of the Home & Council chairpersons, an elderly woman named Jen, glanced at him. He offered her a stiff and uncomfortable smile.

The group seemed nice enough. Cloud wasn't even the youngest; there was a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed young woman who had a student enrolled in kindergarten, excited to kick off motherhood and do it _right_. Cloud wished he had her enthusiasm and drive. Because they all talked about their families and kids or grandkids, their little charges being the whole reason they were here, Cloud learned that three were married and two were not. A couple seemed a bit intrigued when—after they asked if his wife was working at this time of day or if his son was at a daycare-like program before school—he said he was divorced.

Tifa made him brownies for this stupid thing. He'd tried to make some himself, but Denzel had needed help getting the computer to connect to the internet and then with downloading a new game and then the smoke alarm was blaring from Seventh Heaven's kitchen. Tifa's versions were fucking great. He'd already had two this morning.

As the small group of adults set up a table and their artfully-arranged baked goods, Cloud got the scoop about what the other folks did for a living. Tax filing. Banking. No job outside the home—one woman focused on raising her kids. Volunteering at the local senior center. Data entry.

It was weird.

Cloud never… really talked to other caretakers before. When he dropped Denzel off at birthday parties he'd have a brief uncomfortable conversation and leave. He had never been the type to humor small talk and all that stuff. It was a bit surreal, actually. He never thought he'd be here, with these types of people ( _what kind of generalizations was he making now with that statement, though? Especially because—_ the fact that he belonged here, because he _was_ one of those types of people now… a parent).

Cloud had a surprising amount of fun.

As the first people started trickling through the building they offered their snacks. Julia told Cloud that they'd sent an email out to most of the school population so interested parties could arm their kid with an extra Gil or two if they wanted. The principal got something slathered in marshmallow and sprinkles. A custodian talked with them about some sore issue that the others must have been very familiar with; the whole conversation sounded like they'd had it several times before. Cloud's temporary colleagues reassured him and sent him on his way with a cookie.

A few teachers came, and Cloud couldn't help but get a little excited… and sure enough, Squall Leonhart soon walked by. He had headphones in and his leather bag over his shoulder. He had long legs and cute bowler shoes with the slightest heel; his footsteps made sharp _clack, clack, clacks._ He'd noticed Cloud before Cloud noticed him; their eyes met as he started to pass them.

"Mr. Leonhart," Cloud called, lifting a hand in hello.

He came over, naturally. He was smiling slightly, and smelled of cologne; he must have put it on right before he left the house. He knew, of course, exactly why Cloud was there.

"You can just call me 'Squall,'" he said, looking slightly awkward.

"But you're an esteemed teacher," Cloud answered. "I couldn't possibly." (Gaia, where did this _coyness_ come from!?)

"I teach second grade," Leonhart replied, in a tone so flat and unimpressed with his own self Cloud couldn't help but laugh at it. He stood a little straighter and came around the table to stand a little closer to the teacher, abandoning his 'job' altogether.

He held up his hands in a peaceful gesture. "Fine, fine—you wanna buy anything then, Squall?" Leonhart looked down at the table, at the display. There was a small area on the far corner for gluten free things and labels for items with nuts. Cloud picked up one of Tifa's brownies; they were individually wrapped in some festive blue plastic wrap she'd had lying around, leftover from a catered event over the summer.

"These are the ones I brought," Cloud said, holding it out. Leonhart did not take it and Cloud found himself gently pressing it to his chest. Not with enough force to squish it, obviously, but… solidly enough that he was returning the gesture Squall had made when they first met, with that folder.

"You made them?" Squall asked, squinting down at it.

"…Not quite. Mine turned to charcoal. Denzel's birth mother made these."

"Ah." Leonhart was fighting a smile now. "But you _brought_ them, right."

"That's the real job," Cloud said, shrugging. "I'm a delivery boy. They're good. You should get one."

Squall spoke to Jen, the chairwoman, "You've got a persuasive seller on your side now."

"Good!" she said, clearly not having been paying attention to their conversation. She smiled warmly at a tiny girl who had come up with a Gil coin clutched in her fist and asked her what he wanted.

"…Unfortunately," Squall said, "I don't have any money on me. Unless you take cards."

The tone to his voice let Cloud know that Squall knew already they did not. There was a metal box with some change and some ones in it the Home & School Council must have brought around to all their little events like this. Leonhart reached up and curled his hand around half of Cloud's and the brownie. His fingers were warm, and Cloud was pretty sure he wasn't imagining the way they lingered as Squall pushed them both away.

Cloud salvaged the situation. "Well," he said, pushing it back, extending that small amount of contact, "Consider this a gift. Denzel didn't bring you an apple or anything on the first day; I didn't see any on your desk."

Leonhart protested for a couple seconds, but Cloud made him take it. "You'll need the sugar to get you through a day with that group anyway," he said, and at the rationality of it, Squall accepted. He thanked Cloud and tucked it into his bag. To Cloud's immense pleasure, he did not leave right away. The hallway was crowded now. The other members of the council were raking in the Gil, but Cloud couldn't bring himself to help them out just yet.

"You're not in uniform," Leonhart noted.

A comment about his appearance. A look up and down his body—that came just after Leonhart said his sentence. A few, small touches; Cloud could almost feel the warmth from his fingertips against his skin from a minute ago.

Was he flirting with Denzel's second grade teacher?

Was Denzel's second grade teacher flirting with _him_?

"Not today," Cloud answered. He was in casual clothes, though not too casual, since he thought if he was lucky maybe he'd run into a certain…

Cloud almost had to shake himself. He was fucking flirting with Denzel's second grade teacher.

Squall started to ask for clarification about what he did for a living, but a joyous shout of " _Dad_!" made them both look up. Denzel was rushing towards him, his backpack looking ridiculous as it merrily bounced along. Zack was a couple dozen feet behind him, grinning widely.

Cloud crouched and put up a fist, waiting—Denzel bumped him when he got close. Too shy to hug him in public. Zack reached them. "Look at you!" he said. "Hey, Mr. Leonhart."

"Good morning," Leonhart said. The switch back to his teacher-voice made Cloud blink, but he couldn't focus on it with Denzel practically bouncing on his toes—that's how happy he was to unexpectedly run into Cloud here, selling snacks to all his friends.

Cloud had not told Zack or Denzel that he was doing this; he'd wanted it to be a surprise. He'd wanted to see Denzel's face transform… to see how happy he'd be to see Cloud doing this for him. He wanted Zack to see that he was trying. That Cloud wouldn't let Zack leave him behind in the dust.

Denzel's bright grin and Zack's raised eyebrows and genuine pleasure to see Cloud here made his heart ache. Zack reached for him and gave him something he knew Cloud loathed, and that he'd playfully done since they had first met—a noogie.

Leonhart said that he had to go get ready for class—all three bade him goodbye, and then turned back to each other. Cloud explained that he was going to try to help out the Home & School Council when he could. He gave them each brownies and said that Tifa made them, so they better eat up.

Denzel was with Zack the rest of the weekend, and Cloud would miss him, but this one interaction would fuel him for days, he was sure.

"I'll drop him off and come back down to chat when that's done?" Zack asked. Cloud nodded—Denzel and his father left with a last wave.

"They yours?" Jen asked him, glancing up from the table at their retreating backs.

Cloud turned to his newest friends, and said, his heart close to bursting with pride, "Yeah, they are."


	5. Chapter 5

Zack was a pro at handling awkward and uncomfortable situations. He interviewed people, for Gaia's sake. It was rare that someone came in who wasn't nervous and tripping over their words for at least the first few minutes. Zack had the kind of smile that eased people and an aura that did the same. They were natural gifts of his, but he'd had to fine-tune and perfect them over the years to get to where he was now.

He could fine-tune those skills all he wanted and he'd never defuse this awkward situation, though, no matter how hard he tried. Besides, he didn't even particularly want to.

Zack shut the door of his car behind him and adjusted his grip on his briefcase. Denzel was still in his seat, watching the impending confrontation. It was shaping up to be a true Western-style duel, smoking pistols and tumbleweeds and all (if words or perhaps cell phones counted as the pistols and perfectly-manicures lawns were the tumbleweeds). Two dozen feet away, on the next driveway over, stood a scowling redhead. They'd pulled into Zack and Angeal's respective driveways at the same time, and thus could not avoid a confrontation.

Confront Zack Fair did. "Looks like Angeal's mailbox is unharmed," he pointed out.

"Oh, fuck off," the man said irritably.

Zack walked to the imaginary line separating their properties. There was a fence in the back, but not up front. The man—who Angeal had name-dropped as 'Genesis' the first (and only) time they'd talked—walked over too. They stopped in front of each other, sizing each other up. Zack was about two inches taller. He straightened his spine further and frowned at the man.

"Just so you know," Zack said, "Angeal apologized for the mailbox on your behalf."

Genesis's eyebrows drew together, and for a moment looked like he was going to fight with Zack again. Then he rubbed the back of his neck, glancing off to the side. He was a pretty dude, with defined cheekbones gently dusted in freckles. He seemed to be blushing a bit. "Sorry about that," he said begrudgingly.

Zack was a bit surprised. "Oh, uh. It's okay, I guess. Angeal's taking care of it."

"Hmph." Genesis's hands fell to his hips. His attire was just as effortlessly on point as the first time Zack saw him, as well as the last couple days… He'd been trying to catch Angeal to ask him if Denzel could hang out with his dogs for a while. Dude wasn't home, and this guy was dog-sitting. It was Thursday now; he hoped Angeal would come back soon. It was for Denzel's sake as well as his own. It hadn't been pleasant glimpsing Genesis in the backyard playing fetch with the dogs while cooking dinner or walking through the downstairs floor.

Though he had to admit, it was kind of nice getting an apology from the guy.

"Angeal shouldn't have to take responsibility for me being a dumbass and knocking down someone's mailbox," Genesis sniffed. "However. That is his own decision, and therefore I don't have to give the long apology I had planned out. So." Genesis raised a hand towards Denzel. "Sorry, kid," he called. He spun on his heel and strutted— _strutted_ —back inside the house.

"A theater major in college, I bet," Zack muttered under his breath, and then he had to laugh.

* * *

It was Zack who spotted Cloud first, walking down the hallway on Friday morning with Denzel. He got a glimpse of bright yellow spikes over the heads of the crowd—it was mostly children, with the occasional adult interspersed—and glanced back for a second look after his eyes skipped over. Holy _shit,_ it was Cloud.

Cloud Strife, standing at a plastic table covered in…snacks? Talking to Denzel's teacher, smiling in a way Zack loved most. It looked like he got along well with Leonhart, that was good. His hand fell to Denzel's shoulder. "Hey," he said, stopping them both. "I think there's someone you know over there, Denz."

Denzel looked up, his lips turned down into a frown as he searched. Zack could tell when Denzel spotted his Daddy over there; his posture straightened and he let out a gust of breath. His eyes lit up. " _Dad_!" he bellowed, and started running.

Zack followed, amused. Cloud's grin was so damn wide. This was strange—but it was wonderful. Cloud and Denzel were talking, Denzel so excited it looked like he was gonna bounce up and hit the tall ceilings with the top of his head. "Look at you!" Zack said, staring at Cloud, with a little sticker on his chest with the Home & School council logo on it. He was standing with five women of varying ages. "Hey, Mr. Leonhart."

Leonhart greeted him and Denzel as politely as he always did. _Sorry, dude,_ Zack thought a minute later, after pulling Cloud in for a noogie. Leonhart had excused himself, frowning a bit, and headed up to the classroom.

Cloud kept grinning, looking so utterly pleased, ruffling Denzel's hair, dropping to press a kiss to his forehead even though Denzel squirmed away from it…

…shit, Cloud was happy like this.

Cloud was in the same fucking boat as him, really—and in fact, he was actually worse off. He didn't go on dates like Zack did, trying to get back the idyllicness of their marriage. (Or it had been idyllic for a while, until he and Cloud slowly realized that things weren't working out and they'd both be a lot better off if they went back to how they'd been before, best friends.) Yet Cloud was _still_ here, blushing slightly and clearly so proud of himself, totally… content with his life right now.

Zack was jealous as hell.

He snapped out of it when Cloud handed him something soft and wrapped in plastic. "Oh, Tifa made these?" he asked, a smile forming on his lips. "Heck yeah. It's our lucky day, Denz."

"I'll put it in my lunch box when I get upstairs," Denzel promised Cloud, staring up seriously at him. He was more similar to Cloud than he was Zack, Zack thought, with another stab of jealousy.

"Okay," Cloud said. His chest was practically jutting out with pride. Forget everything else—Gaia, Zack loved him.

He dropped Denzel off in his classroom—Leonhart offered him a strained smile as he told him to have a good day (dude was probably stressed as hell already this morning, poor thing)—and returned back down to see Cloud. He was crouched and talking to a very small girl. Though Zack was still too far away to hear, he could imagine the low, gentle voice Cloud used when talking to tiny children. His voice had always soothed Denzel when he cried as a baby or threw tantrums as a toddler.

Though Zack's stomach was still clenching uncomfortably, he had to smile. That smile widened when Cloud turned back to him as he approached and the student walked off. Cloud's arm raised automatically and slipped around his waist in a hug with the same familiarity he had for years and years.

"Looks like we're gonna be here for a few minutes after the classes actually start," Cloud said, rubbing Zack's back firmly, touchy and warm. "Sorry I can't walk out with you."

"No problem." Zack dropped a kiss to the top of Cloud's head. "It was a nice surprise seein' you here anyway, Spike. I'm glad I got to see ya for a few minutes."

"Yeah?" Cloud tilted his head up to look at him.

Zack couldn't resist that expression. "Yeah," he confirmed. "I think you made Denzel's week. The whole way upstairs he kept saying how cool it was that we ran into you at school."

For a moment, Zack thought Cloud might cry. Those beautiful blue eyes grew glassy and wide; Cloud's lips pursed, pressing together tightly to keep any emotion from spilling over. The moment passed, and Cloud exhaled, leaning against him more firmly for a moment. "I'm… so happy to hear that," he said. "Hey—you wanna brownie, dear?"

He moved away from Zack to deal with another child that had approached. "See you," Zack said, and Cloud spared him a glance and a smile.

The uneasiness Zack felt followed him out to his car, and then to work. Kunsel asked him at lunchtime what was wrong, and Zack muttered something about Cloud, and how he didn't get how he _did it_. Kunsel sort of understood what Zack meant; these were issues Zack had been wrestling with for two years now, and the intensity of his frustration waxed and waned over the months. He managed to distract Zack for the rest of their lunch hour but by the end of the day the melancholy was back. It lingered as he picked Denzel up from school, through his quick conversation with Leonhart, on the drive home, and it—

It released its grip on him completely as Zack and Denzel pulled into their driveway. Their neighbor was home.

"Can I pet his dogs?" Denzel asked from the backseat, quick as anything.

Zack laughed as he parked and turned off the engine. "I'll ask. You still wanna go with the plan we came up with?"

Denzel nodded seriously at him through the rearview mirror. "Alright then," Zack said. "You go in and get a snack and I'll see what he says."

Both of Angeal's dogs were in the backyard; they were running around and playing with each other. Denzel's head followed them as Zack steered his son into their house. Kid didn't want to go inside very much. "You'll get your chance," Zack said, grinning, " _Promise_. I'll be right back. Get your homework out while you're grabbing your snack, okay?"

It took a little while from when Zack knocked on the door to when Angeal answered it. It was so long, in fact, that Zack had actually turned away with a shrug and was on his own driveway when the door opened.

"Hey," Angeal called.

Zack turned and came back. "Oh, hey! Aw—did I wake you up? Shit, sorry, man."

Angeal yawned. His t-shirt ( _PLANTS ARE MY FRONDS_ ) was rumpled, and his hair sticking up on one side. He was stubbled, and leaning heavily against the door. Zack had only met Angeal for a few minutes the other time and had kind of forgotten what he looked like, remembering only that he was handsome, had longish hair, and was tall.

"It's okay," the man said blearily, blinking at Zack. Zack felt awful. "My alarm was set to go off in fifteen minutes anyway."

"Oh," Zack said, feeling a little better, but not by much. "Well, I guess what I have to say isn't so important it warranted waking you up, so I feel a little like a dick now, but—uh, welcome back is the first thing, I guess."

"Thank you." Angeal seemed surprised and pleased; he smiled warmly at Zack, rubbing at his eyes to wake himself up. "Genesis told me that he spoke with you."

 _Did he ever,_ Zack thought. "Er, yeah, he did. It's good to see you again. Anyway—I thought of what you can do to make it up to me, for the mailbox thing."

"Oh." Angeal nodded seriously, meeting his gaze. He looked so earnest. "What do you want me to do?"

"Well…" It seemed kind of silly now that he was here in front of his neighbor. "If you're comfortable with it, I was wondering if your dogs could have a sleepover at my place. My son, Denzel—he's had his nose pressed to the window as he drools over your dogs, man; he loves them. He has this dream of, like…" Zack held out his hands, smiling with his shoulders raised, "'Falling asleep next to a puppy,' he told me."

"That's adorable," Angeal murmured, glancing next door at Zack's house as if to catch Denzel's face watching the both of them.

"Yeah." Zack nodded. "He was gonna ask you earlier this week if he could play with them, but you weren't home."

Angeal smiled gently at him, but in a way that let Zack know he was about to get some bad news. "One of my dogs gets anxious in new places if I'm not around," Angeal said, "And the other has special diet needs."

"Aw." Zack drooped; his hair even looked like it was too. His spine curved and he frowned at Angeal's welcome mat. There were little cartoon vegetables on it. "I understand."

"Hmm…" Angeal rubbed the fuzzy end of his chin. "Maybe… I could invite Denzel over for a night?" He hastily added on, "If _you're_ comfortable with that."

Leaving his small son in the company of an adult stranger without supervision… no. The idea still had some merit, though. Zack flashed Angeal a grin, equal parts charming and a little guilty. "Would you be willing to host two people? I'll order pizza, to make up for the inconvenience?"

"I'm making up for _your_ inconvenience," Angeal argued, and the two men sized each other up for a moment. "…That'd be nice," Angeal said after a moment. "I do like having guests over."

"You free tomorrow night? Tonight and tomorrow are the only nights he has without school the next morning."

"Oh, right. Tomorrow works fine. Want to come over around… seven? Is that too late?"

"No, that's great. Denzel is usually asleep between ten and eleven, so he won't get to bother you for too long."

"I doubt that's the case," Angeal said, smiling.

Zack could only beam back. "Alright!" he said. "Any special pizza requests?"

"Anything but sausage."

"Gotcha." Zack tilted his head, giving a two-fingered wave away from his cheekbone. "See you tomorrow at seven, man. Denzel's gonna crap his pants when I tell him about this."

Angeal laughed and waved him off. What a good sport. Zack could very much appreciate people who rolled with things and had a sense of humor. The guy seemed pretty chill. As expected, Denzel was over the moons ( _both suspected to be large parts of Gaia that had broken off during the cataclysmic forming of their planet billions of years ago; Ifrit, the bigger of the two moons, was 240,000 miles away whereas Ramuh, the smaller, over 360,000)_ with the news.

That night Denzel kept asking Zack rapidfire questions about Angeal's dogs. What were their names? Zack hadn't gotten the info. What were they going to do? Eat pizza and talk, I guess, Denz, I dunno. Can I ride on the big one? Probably not, dude. Will Angeal let them eat out of my hand? If you ask nicely, maybe.

In his younger years Zack used to go out on Friday nights; he and Cloud had been party fiends, getting wasted on Friday and spending Saturday recovering and lying down in bed together with movies and food. Now he was talking to his son about his neighbor's dogs' shits, and how if Denzel ever got a dog of his own, he'd have to put in that effort and pick them up, even the _extra stinky ones._

Saturday was not spent lying on the couch or seeing friends, either; he brought Denzel shopping for the last of the stuff he needed for the new school year and a couple new games. Seven came quick, because time always seemed to be fast-forwarding on days when Zack didn't have to work; he got a menu and called in the order to their favorite pizza place. The delivery address—right next door. It was kind of fun.

He had to supervise what Denzel was packing into his duffel bag, because he'd gone up to peek and Denzel was trying to shove one of his gaming systems inside. There were also seven books crammed into the bottom, a pair of socks, and a shirt for tomorrow.

"I guarantee you Angeal's clothes are way too big for you, dude," Zack said, rooting through Denzel's dresser himself, "You'll need a full outfit. And you didn't even pack pjs."

Denzel grumbled about the game system at first but seemed satisfied when Zack told him that he'd be too busy playing with the dogs to get bored and need to play a video game. He settled for two books and Zack helped him fold in his clothes. As they packed, they went over their manners.

"If you gotta fart, you leave the room," Zack warned. "We don't want to make our new neighbor think we're gross, do we?"

"Ew," Denzel said, turning away sticking up his nose—but he was giggling, Zack saw his shoulders shake.

There were rules about using napkins and being very sure to flush the toilet after they used it (Denzel forgot pretty often), and to wash the toothpaste away with water after they brushed their teeth. Don't be nosy and go through all of Angeal's stuff unless he said it was okay. There were rules about dogs, most definitely. Don't pet them without Angeal's permission. Don't get all in their faces and scare the dog; that's how kids got bitten. Listen to Angeal. Et cetera.

Zack packed his own stuff, double checked they had all their little things and Zack had his meds, and they left for their long trek a couple dozen feet across their side yard. Angeal opened up right away, and Zack stepped into a jungle.

Okay, not really—but there were a lot of fucking plants.

The inside of Angeal's house was pretty identical to Zack's; it was kind of funny. There was the same little foyer you walked into, and just past it, a branching off into kitchen on the right, living room on the left, stairs straight ahead. It was just… decorated a hell of a lot nicer, and full of small end tables and artistic surfaces to put potted plants on.

Denzel seemed confused by all the plants as well, but it spoke to how well Zack, Tifa and Cloud had raised him that he did not comment, and took it all in stride. He was a bit shy to meet Angeal face-to-face finally, and stuck close to Zack as Zack introduced them.

"Denzel is seven and just started second grade," Zack proudly told Angeal, ruffling his son's hair.

Angeal, who seemed to be good with kids (as Zack had thought) as well as a kind and gracious host, shook Denzel's hand like a gentleman and asked him if he liked second grade so far.

"I have a cool teacher," Denzel said, nodding hesitantly.

"Oh? A cool teacher can make the whole year so much better," Angeal said with a warm smile. He took their bags and put them in the living room. Denzel was trying to be polite and pay attention but he was looking left and right, clearly trying to hunt down the dogs. Zack covered his mouth with his hand, and caught Angeal's gaze; the man seemed just as amused.

"I heard that you like dogs," Angeal said finally, his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah," Denzel said.

"Not cats?"

"Not interested."

(Zack nearly choked as he held back a loud guffaw at that one. _Denzel Strife, what a kid._ )

"And…" Angeal trailed off, making Denzel's anticipation visibly build. The kid started bouncing up and down on his toes, his light-up boots twinkling merrily. "I heard that _maybe_ you might be interested in playing with mine."

"Where are they?" Denzel asked, running out of patience.

Angeal chuckled. "They're in the backyard. I'll go let them in."

Angeal disappeared into a different room and Zack grinned at Denzel. "You excited?"

Denzel didn't answer, because a moment later two dogs came careening into the room. Denzel held up his hands to greet them hello and then they were sniffing and pawing at him, greeting the new visitor hello. And Denzel was laughing—loudly, delightedly, with such clear amusement and fondness in his voice.

Zack's heart melted. He folded his arms, grinning, watching his son get doused in furry affection. Angeal came to stand by him, watching as well. "This is Buster and Shiva," he said, to the both of them. He crouched beside Zack and made a kissy noise; the two dogs abandoned Denzel for the moment and came to him. Angeal told them to sit—they both sat—and grabbed their collars.

"This is Buster." Buster was a fucking _huge_ Newfoundland, rich black with some brown patches. The dog looked dopey as hell, but in a cute way; Angeal's hand got too close to his head and Buster licked sloppily at it. Denzel giggled. Angeal could hear the question both of them were about to ask and said, "Buster's just a couple inches shorter than me on his hind legs—six foot one."

"He's as tall as you, Papa," Denzel said, his mouth hanging open.

"Maybe Buster and I can share clothes then," Zack quipped, reaching out to pet the dog himself. Buster had striking blue eyes and blinked blissfully at him as Zack scratched behind that massive head.

"And this is Shiva," Angeal said, nodding his head at his other dog. "She's a greyhound, and still a puppy, about a year old." Where Buster was huge and wide Shiva was skinny and thin, like all greyhounds were. She was rather tall, though, and would only get taller with age.

"Awww," Denzel cooed, dropping to his knees too. Angeal let them go and then they were all over Denzel again, licking at his laughing face, sniffing his shirt, and pressing up against him. "Hi Shiva, hi Buster…"

Too fucking cute. The doorbell rang and Zack got up to get the pizza before Angeal could beat him to the door. The guy was familiar and kind of confused, and asked, "Don't you live next door?"

Laughing, Zack told him, "Yeah—but this guy here just moved in. We're tryin' to make him feel welcome in the neighborhood."

"Oh, you want a menu for him?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll make sure he's one of your regulars too." He saluted the guy.

As Angeal and Zack got all the food set up on the coffee table Denzel asked, playing with Buster's collar, "What's an ESD?"

Angeal had just taken a sneaky first bite of a breadstick, apparently too tempted to wait. "An Emotional Support Dog," he answered after a swallow. "I rescued Buster when he was a puppy, and put him through some training and classes so he could get certified. When I'm feeling sad or not like myself, Buster helps cheer me up."

Angeal said it casually, with no shame or reservations; Zack hoped desperately that Denzel wouldn't ask an inappropriate question about Angeal feeling _sad_. They'd had many, many conversations about Zack's ADHD and all sorts of other situations folks might have to work through. Denzel knew all about mental illness and disabilities or whatever else it might be that made Angeal need a special companion. "Okay," Denzel said simply, "That sounds really nice."

"It is," Angeal answered, sounding charmed.

Denzel was an amazingly accepting kid. Being raised by two dads and a birth mother would do that to a child, especially with all the hours they'd put in since Denzel's birth to raise him as open-minded and intersectional as possible.

They all sat on the couch with the television on. Zack was grateful for it; it could have been awkward with just the three of them sitting in silence other than the sound of chewing. Angeal was a stranger. It was good to have a distraction.

As Zack thought about what to say, he looked at Angeal. The man sat cross-legged on the far end of the long couch; Denzel was in the middle. His strong jaw worked as he chewed, and he absently scratched at an itch on one arm. Big biceps. He'd certainly gotten lucky with a damn hot neighbor.

Today's t-shirt read _I'm Kind of a Big Dill_ and had a picture of a pickle. How many vegetable and plant pun shirts could one guy have? He'd put the ends of his hair up into a short, stubby ponytail at the nape of his neck. Zack averted his eyes.

"Genesis isn't all that bad a guy," Zack's brain decided to say, and Zack frowned after it slipped out.

"No, he isn't," Angeal agreed. "But he does have his flaws. Did he apologize to you?"

"He did, yeah. No worries. Were you on vacation?"

Denzel had only lasted about a minute on the couch. He was now cradling his plate in his lap while leaning against Buster on the floor. The dog, even while lying down, was practically a bed for the kid. Shiva was stretched out on his socked feet, and must have been warm. Denzel looked blissed out (to the point he looked stoned, even; it was fucking gold. Zack snapped a picture on his phone for Cloud and Tifa).

"I was on one of the small islands off the coast of Costa del Sol." Angeal did look kind of tan, Zack thought, but he hadn't been able to remember if he was that tan and freckled during their first meeting or not.

Zack was impressed. "Really?"

"Mm. It's closed for tourism. There are quite a few endangered species there."

"How'd you get there, then?"

Angeal swept some of the bangs out of his eyes that weren't quite long enough to be captured in the ponytail. "I work for the National Gaian Society. They asked me to tag along on a quick expedition some of their scientists were going on."

"Woah, that's cool as shit!" Zack then covered his mouth guiltily, but Denzel hadn't heard—his eyes were closed and his face pointed at the ceiling. He looked like he was meditating as the upper half of his body raised and lowered with Buster's rhythmic breathing. Buster was unbelievably gentle with the kid, and it was part of his ESD training, Angeal had said earlier when Zack commented. Buster—part of a breed nicknamed "the gentle giant" to begin with—was exceptionally calm, cuddly, and loving. "Hey, Denz," Zack prodded, getting his attention. "Angeal works for NGS. You get their magazines!"

That snapped Denzel out of it. He'd been getting the National Gaian Society magazines since he was three or four, when he, Tifa and Cloud had realized how deep Denzel's love for animals ran. Most kids adored animals, and Denzel especially so. He loved to read about them. He especially enjoyed the breathtaking pictures of animals out in the wild.

"So you're, like, a biologist?"

"Not quite. Botanist."

All the plants around the apartment then made sense. "Huh," he said. Denzel was looking at him with a frown. "Angeal is a plant scientist," he clarified, " _Botanist._ " Denzel repeated the word and Zack nodded approvingly.

Angeal chuckled. "' _Plant Scientist,'_ " he repeated, like he hadn't heard that one before.

Angeal told them that he'd always loved gardening and plants, ever since he was a child. He and his mother had spent many hours in their own modest one. He also lived next door to an apple orchard. This past week, in Costa, Angeal was looking at environmental science and climate change stuff. "Have you heard about global warming, Denzel?" Angeal asked.

Denzel had to think for a moment, and then said, "Yeah. The planet's warming up from all the Mako smog."

Angeal nodded. "It's not just Mako smog, but Mako pollution has undoubtedly done a lot of damage. The oceans are warming up, bit by bit, and it's causing all sorts of strange problems around the world. There are big coral reefs near Costa and special plants in the oceans right by the islands that don't grow anywhere else. They wanted me to do some research on them."

"Are the plants okay?" Denzel asked, with all the unlimited amount of empathy that small children could muster.

"Not really." Angeal shook his head. "Some will survive even if the ocean gets a lot warmer, but lots of fish are dying out already. In the ocean, everything has big effects on everything else. When it gets so warm that some of the littler fish and plants start to die, soon it builds up." Before Denzel could get scared or worked up, however, Angeal said, "But it's not all bad—scientists are already making a lot of progress on finding ways to reverse this and save the plant and animal species we still have. Don't worry."

Denzel still looked a bit spooked, but Buster let out a deep yawn and Denzel was distracted again. He pressed his face into the dog's furry side. Shiva was eyeing the leftover crust from his pizza slice and Zack snatched it up before she could grab it. Angeal had said one of his dogs had special diet restrictions—he didn't know which one.

"I took a bunch of photos in Costa. I take photographs of plants almost as often as I go do research on them. I can show them to you, if you want?"

"Yes!" Denzel said, dropping the unenthusiastic _yeah_ for once. Zack, relaxed back into Angeal's plush couch, smiled. His kid was infatuated with his neighbor already. Zack felt that excitement too; Angeal was cool as fuck. He wouldn't have guessed. He figured the dude worked at the local plant shop or something.

Angeal got his laptop, balancing it on his shins. He was barefoot, and his pants looked awfully soft. He clicked around a bit and then flipped it around. Denzel got on his knees and walked closer so he could see. Zack scooted down the couch too to peek.

The pictures were gorgeous. Some were just scenery—wide, untouched Costa beaches with the glittering ocean just beyond them. Most were of cute animals that Angeal saw, some that Denzel didn't even know. Angeal warned them that animals weren't his area of expertise but he knew what most of those pictured were anyway. Bright colorful birds, sitting in trees… tiny fox-like creatures with cute ears poking their heads out of holes in the sand. Those pictures were just for fun, Angeal said, but he had a folder for ones he had taken while in a professional mode; ones that he was going to submit to his bosses for review for the next magazine.

These, despite being of something Zack had always thought as pretty boring— _plants_ —were just as breathtaking. The level of care and effort that went into these shots was apparent. Some were zoomed in close, where you could see every vein inside a leaf. Water droplets from the third morning he was there, when there was dew on everything in the early morning, refracted the pinkish sunlight in a way Zack hadn't known was possible. There were big, fabulous plants with broad strokes of color in their leaves and tiny, nondescript ones with unique pollinators. There were even some underwater pictures Angeal had snapped with a special camera that could function even at a depth of twenty feet.

"Did you scuba dive for those?" Denzel asked, his nose almost to the screen, peering around for dolphins or something, probably. Before Zack could do it Angeal gently backed him up so he wouldn't strain his eyes.

"I did. The water is gorgeous out there. Isn't it so clear?"

Sections of the coral reef out there were poisonous. Angeal showed them a picture he'd taken while underwater of some of it—pretty purple blossoms spilled from a bubbling hole in the coral that cascaded down towards the sea floor, out of the shot. These were some of the last specimens of this specific flower anywhere, Angeal said, and the way he told them the story of how the warming oceans were affecting the fish that nestled in near the coral and made it possible for these purple things to grow… it made Zack sad. Denzel looked crestfallen too.

Angeal seemed to realize how rapt his audience was. He told them about some of the other photos he'd taken. Which ones he thought were most likely to be selected. How he'd sell a few of the other ones to other magazines to make some money. How he was drafting up an article for the magazine to accompany his photo spread, to raise awareness about climate change.

Zack fell quiet for a little while, thinking. What the hell was Angeal doing _here_? Next door to him, on the outside edges of Midgar?

He did not have very long to ponder it because Angeal and Denzel were talking now. For seven years Zack had developed a new criterion for whether he liked someone or not: _How do they treat my kid?_

Potential partners that were stiff and awkward with children, or who cursed freely in front of him or told Zack in confidence that they didn't actually _like_ kids but were willing to put up with Denzel for a piece of Zack's hot ass? Uh, _no_. Kunsel, Zack's best friend, was fantastic with Denz and sometimes took him out places. Kunsel even had a picture of him and Denzel when he was four somewhere in his office. Angeal seemed to genuinely have that knack… and wasn't just being nice to Denzel with that fake, be-nice-to-your-neighbors kinda thing. He was asking Denzel about the things he liked.

The Great Ninja Yuffie, animals, dogs (Zack smiled again), his PHS and the game he'd gotten earlier that day for it, his friend Marlene, pizza, the food Tifa cooks, motorcycles.

"Oh?" Angeal asked. "Motorcycles are cool."

"Yeah. My dad has one."

Angeal looked at Zack. There was obviously no motorcycle in their driveway.

"His other dad," Zack clarified, lifting his chin as if daring Angeal to say something negative.

He did not. Angeal's gaze slid back to Denzel's. "That's awesome," he said. "Do you ever get to ride on it?"

"Whenever Daddy picks me up from school I get to—I have my own helmet in the storage compartment and everything." Denzel had that proud glint in his eye Cloud got sometimes. Angeal _aaahed_ and looked suitably impressed.

Zack got another slice of pizza and Angeal stopped him with a, "Hold on. What is that?" He was squinting at the slice. He'd had pepperoni but Zack's was a lot more interesting. The face he made when Zack explained his and Denzel's favorite was bbq sauce and chicken with pineapple and red peppers had both him and his son in stitches.

The three of them ate until they were all in pain. Denzel had his hands folded over his stomach, lying on Buster again. Zack and Angeal were sluggish and chilling on the couch still, staring blankly at the TV, which had ended up on one of Denzel's favorite shows. Angeal had never seen it and Denzel had kept up a running commentary with descriptions of every character until he'd seemed to exhaust even himself, trailing off into silence as he nestled more fully onto Buster. The lovable dog didn't even seem to mind.

Eventually Denzel drifted off to the sounds of the older men talking quietly above him, and Zack sighed. "I'll clean up, then wake him and get him ready for bed and stuff. You want us on the couch?"

"No, that's alright. I have a guest room with a bed you two can share, if that's okay? Or one of you can take the couch if you want?"

"Sharing a bed's fine. He's a kicker, but I've had years of experience to get good at evading that shit."

Angeal laughed. They gathered everyone's mess and brought it into the kitchen. Shiva followed at their heels; Buster looked like he desperately wanted a bite of the remaining pizza that the humans were _totally_ going to give him, of _course_ , but didn't want to disturb Denzel. He let out a little whine and watched them with sad eyes but did not move.

"That's so fucking precious," Zack said, his heart doing weird things.

He smashed his toe into the leg of yet another end table with a plant on top, and hopped on one foot as he said, " _Dammit_! Ow!"

Although Zack was kind of laughing, Angeal's face was serious. "Are you okay? Do you want ice, or anything? Are you bleeding?"

Zack waved off his neighbor's worry. His laughter got more genuine as it sunk in what he'd done. "We have our trash can right here," he said, pointing at the end table, "Right at the end of the counter. I— _ow,_ haha—wasn't even thinking about it. This isn't my house."

Angeal chuckled along with him. "If you're sure you're okay…"

"Ow. I'm fine, really. He hobbled to where the trashcan really was and dumped in all their used paper plates and napkins. It wasn't just the layout that had him confused; Angeal just had a really, well, _homey_ home. Zack was comfortable here. Shiva ran around his ankles as he went back to the sink to wash their cups; Angeal protested but Zack waved him off again.

Angeal put dog food in both their bowls; it seemed like Shiva had the fancy stuff, with a few crushed up-vitamins mixed in with some wet food, a tasty side dish to the dry stuff. Poor Buster seemed to know his food was waiting for him, and let out another sad whine from the next room, but still did not move and disrupt Denzel's slumber.

He came back and gently shook Denzel. The boy let out a sleepy murmur and turned a little more into Buster, one small fist curled into the dog's fur. Angeal was watching from the couch and Zack turned his head, smiling gently at the man.

"Denz," he whispered, turning back around. The kid had bbq sauce on his cheeks. "C'mon, buddy… we gotta go upstairs. You can't sleep on Buster all night."

When Denzel was somewhat awake Zack gently extracted him, lifting under his armpits until he could stand. He wavered on his feet but stood; he even mumbled a polite thank-you to Angeal. "G'night, Buster," he said through a yawn. The dog stood, gave a mighty stretch, and nuzzled into Denzel, pressing some of his weight affectionately against the boy. If Zack hadn't been there he would have fallen over on his sleepy feet. Denzel gave a soft giggle and petted his head again.

Angeal directed them upstairs. Zack and Denzel took turns washing up in the bathroom (which was also eerily similar to their own yet different in small ways, like the toilet paper holder on the left and not the right) and crawling into pajamas. Denzel's had space ships on them; Cloud had picked them up at some conference he'd gone to about discovering more about Dark Matter two months previous. They'd even come with a brief lecture about how rockets worked, and how the flames coming out the bottom were not, in fact, pushing them into the air, like most people thought—the thrust was generated on the _inside_ of the rocket from the combustion of the fuel, and the push was against the top of the inside, and the flames were just the exhaust…

Zack blinked and shook himself out of it. He was tired too.

Denzel looked very small in Angeal's guest bed. It was a full so he and Denzel didn't have to squish together, thankfully. This room still had boxes in it; Angeal was not fully moved in. There was a dresser against the far wall… and it was funny—in Zack's house, this room was Denzel's bedroom. Denzel's dresser was in the exact same spot. This one was grander, though. A red article of clothing peeked out of one of the drawers that hadn't quite shut and Zack scowled; Genesis had probably stayed in this room. It was all well and good that Angeal had someone he could trust to take care of his dogs, but yeesh…

Zack debated crawling into bed after his son. Denzel's bangs were plastered to his head and Zack brushed them away as he stared at him, at the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He dropped a kiss to his forehead and went back downstairs.

Angeal sat on the couch, on his laptop again. He was typing, and he'd turned the television off. Zack could hear the sounds of Buster enjoying his dinner from the kitchen.

"Hey," Zack said, feeling slightly awkward now, without Denzel there as a buffer.

Angeal gave him a small smile as Zack walked around him and sat back at the other end of the couch. "Hey," he answered, in a soft voice that reflected the late hour. "Denzel all situated?"

"Yeah." Zack sat cross-legged like Angeal was. Dude looked flexible—he could get his knees flat enough to touch the couch cushions and balance his laptop on them. It was a bit more uncomfortable for Zack to sit this way, but not too much so, and he kind of liked doing the same thing as Angeal. Seemed to fit the moment.

"I'm not bothering you, am I?"

"No." Angeal kept typing, but the pace had slowed. "I'm working a bit on my next article for NGS, but the deadline isn't until the end of next week. There's no rush."

The light of the screen accentuated the hard, masculine lines of Angeal's face. His eyes when he glanced at Zack were so incredibly kind… Zack found himself smiling back involuntarily and decided to ask the question that had been on his mind all evening. "You mind if I ask you somethin', Angeal?"

"Go ahead."

Zack sucked on the inside of one cheek, staring at the interior of the house. The entertainment system wasn't as grand as Zack's… but Zack was a movie buff and Denzel adored television. There were plants in here too. Zack got a brief vision of excitable Shiva knocking one of the tables over. He wondered how many times that had happened. He looked over at Angeal, waiting patiently, his fingers still for the moment.

"How come you're all the way out here? You work at NGS—that's all the way in Sector two. The suburbs of Sector five aren't where I'd imagine someone like you, is all."

Hopefully that hadn't come across as rude. Angeal didn't seem to take offense. It was likely that he'd say something about wanting to raise a family out here, or wanting to get away from the pollution of the inner city… Zack was expecting an answer like that, and thus frowned when Angeal said, "I don't really know."

Zack waited, tilting his head. He had melted back into the plush leather of the couch; this thing was even better than his own next door. Angeal's fingers tapped against the laptop keyboard, but in thought, not pressing down any of the keys. "When it comes to big decisions like home ownership," Angeal said, "I don't do things impulsively. But—I guess—this move was. The past couple months have been touchy—I was in a bad place, mentally, for most of the past year. I felt like… getting somewhere else, and semi-permanently, not just for a week or two for work, would do me some good. The first day I started house searching I saw the posting for this one and just… bought it."

"Wow," Zack said, processing all of it. "Do you think it helped?"

Angeal studied Zack. Zack schooled his face into the 'genuinely interested and kind' expression he used when he tried to get prospective AVALANCHE employees to open up. It wasn't hard to do, though; he wanted to know. _Genuine_ 'genuine interest.'

"I do," Angeal said after a moment. He tucked some hair behind one ear, and it was an endearingly gentle motion on so big a man. "It's nice here. Buster and Shiva have more room to run around. My apartment downtown was nice, but…"

Angeal exhaled, glanced at Zack again, and seemed to straighten his spine. He was going to dish; Zack knew all the signs. "I lived across the street from the flower shop my Ex works at. It was a bad breakup. I needed her out of my life altogether to move on, and seeing her every day really… hindered my recovery."

"That sucks, man."

"Yeah." Angeal closed his laptop, not even pretending to still be working on his article. "We lived together for two years beforehand; she moved out. Her name is Aerith, and she's a great person, really… you can probably see why a botanist would be drawn to the owner of a flower shop."

Zack smiled at the bashful way Angeal was rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I can."

"She's a kind person and we had a lot in common… but it didn't work out. And I need her gone." Angeal tapped a finger against the side of his skull. "I need to think about her less. So I moved out here, for some space. And yeah, I really do think it's working."

"I'm so glad to hear it." Zack really was. "I know how rough a divorce can be, and your situation sounds way rockier than mine."

"We weren't married."

"Sorry. Breakups, then. I'm wishin' you luck with the recovery. It's good to have you out here with us."

"Thanks." Now Angeal sounded slightly embarrassed. "You've been through a divorce?"

"Yeah. Denzel's dad. It's… kind of a strange situation. And while, yeah, I guess it would be ideal if Cloud and I were still married, it's not like that. We got married 'cause that's what we felt we should do, after dating for like four years, yeah? But… we're just friends. Probably always were. And we're still friends—we raise Denzel together."

There was no judgement in Angeal's eyes, and not even confusion or the quietly pensive expression people always gave when they were outwardly _accepting_ Denzel's familial situation but inwardly thinking unkind things. Angeal just waited for Zack to continue, as Zack had earlier.

So Zack continued. He curled sleepily into the back of the couch like Angeal was. His eyes drooped as he spoke, and then closed altogether, but he kept talking. He told Angeal how he first met Cloud, when Cloud was a freshman at MU and he a senior. They'd been inseparable. Shit had gone down with Cloud's family halfway through his sophomore year but he and Zack kept dating through it. Eventually they'd gotten married and Cloud's best friend, Tifa, offered to be their surrogate after six months of fruitless searching for one.

Denzel. Cloud and Zack had both cried when they'd gone to visit Tifa and their baby in the hospital. Denzel meant the world to both of them; that hadn't changed. To Tifa too… she'd taken classes on _letting go_ after giving birth, because a lot of surrogates grew unexpectedly attached to the fetus they carried around and brought into the world. Even during pregnancy Tifa had been so fond of Denzel, letting Zack and Cloud put their ears to her belly and listen to the sounds of him moving around.

They'd tried a couple months of removing Tifa somewhat from the picture, because that had been the plan all three agreed on, but in practice it failed somewhat. Nobody wanted that. Cloud wanted his best friend there with him, baby Denzel snoozing on her shoulder, sucking down bottles and later eating pureed peas and drooling them all over the front of his bib that read _Seventh Heaven Official Mascot_. Zack adored Tifa as well; they got along fabulously, and Zack wanted her around just as much.

So the three of them raised the kid. But then two years ago Cloud and Zack sat Denz down and told them they were getting a divorce… and Denzel had cried, and then Cloud and Zack had cried too, just like that first night in the hospital.

It was unquestionably the best decision for everybody. But now, two years later… it was _hard_ , it really was—not in the ways they'd expected but in different ones. Sometimes Zack wished he could have cut it off with Cloud altogether, and not put in the work to make their friendship post-divorce work out. In a way what Angeal had, that clean break, sounded nice (not that he told Angeal this, mumbling now, not realizing with his eyes still closed that Angeal's were too and the man had curled up lengthwise on the couch, his head on the arm of it).

But Cloud gave him so much happiness at the same time. Zack would be lost without him. He _needed_ his best friend. He needed Denzel's Daddy with him, too. So even if he got jealous as hell of Cloud sometimes, and it was difficult being the only parent who seemed lost and occasionally unhappy with this new life… it was worth it anyway.

By the end, Zack was hardly making any sense. His voice grew quieter and quieter until he stopped talking altogether and just breathed. The couch was so comfy. It felt like Angeal's foot was pressing against his thigh. It was warm. They should go upstairs to bed now. Zack tried to get up, but ended up cuddling into the couch more instead.

. . .

Shiva giving a quick bark to let Angeal know she had to go outside woke them both up. Both men on the couch jerked awake, peering around in confusion.

"Urgh," Angeal grunted, scrubbing at his face as his feet moved on autopilot like any dedicated dog owner's could. Zack blearily watched him go. The situation sunk in after a couple seconds and he started to laugh softly, stretching out the kinks in his neck.

They'd fallen asleep on the damn couch.

The two of them giggled kind of awkwardly as Angeal came back in. "Oops," Angeal said, shrugging.

"Oops," Zack confirmed. There wasn't much else to say without making this even stranger. He went upstairs to wake Denzel.

Angeal cooked them both breakfast. He could make eggs as requested. Denzel liked them fried but with the yolks still kind of runny so he could put it in a breakfast sandwich and squish it, making a mess of everything. Angeal dutifully prepared it.

"Hey, Denz," Zack said, after complimenting Angeal on everything. "Why don't you ask Ang about some of the trips he's been on for NGS? He's a good storyteller. D'you mind?"

Angeal was grinning at the nickname. "Not at all," he said, "Please—ask away."


	6. Chapter 6

The summer shorts version of Cloud's uniform had to be retired in mid-October. Cloud was rather disappointed; he liked shorts very much. As the leaves started turning from green to brilliant yellows, oranges and reds Cloud finally folded them away in the back of his closet and pulled on the crisp, starchy pants that were the fall uniform. The frigid wind blowing over his leg hairs had been unpleasant, but still, he frowned as he first tugged them on.

Fall really was one of Cloud's least favorite seasons. That was because, well, it meant _winter_ was on its way and that was his absolute least favorite.

Cloud liked it warm; he liked to stretch out in the sun on his bed and nap. He liked swimming and surfing on vacations. He liked the way Fenrir carved through the dizzying heat waves coming up from hot asphalt. He liked going for runs in the early morning when the air was cooler than it would be later in the day, and a thousand other things that you could do in warmer weather.

Ah, well. He was only one man; it wasn't like he had the power to stop the flow of time.

 _Actually_ … time was a lot more nuanced than people tended to think. Time, as it was understood by humans as they constructed it, interwoven with space, was really part of _space-time._ And time was not the same for everybody. A fast-moving or accelerating observer would measure time passing more slowly than a (relatively) stationary observer. How amazing was _that_? And furthermore, space-time was like a goo around everything, and objects with very large masses—like black holes, or Cloud's planet, Gaia—would even _bend_ space-time around it. Light coming from a galaxy obscured behind a black hole could _still_ be seen on this planet sometimes because it would bend _around_ the black hole and continue in a new direction. That was called gravitational lensing, and light would often appear as a cross or a circle around the obstructing body as it curved around it on all sides, which is how you'd know there was something in the way…

It was all so fucking _cool_ , and cooler yet, just observing the leaves turning and falling made Cloud's brain start turning this way.

"Daddy?"

Cloud turned around, spooked a little. He'd zoned out, one hand pressed to the cool glass windows by _Seventh Heaven's_ front door. There were trees on the sidewalks here, a couple every block. They were miserable little things—downtown Midgar was no walk in the park, unless you were actually in the park over in Sector 4—but even they were getting into the spirit of the season, and starting to drop a few crisp leaves on the dirty sidewalks.

Denzel was behind him, and holding up two different kinds of beer. "Tifa wants to know which one you want."

Cloud instinctively turned around as if to check for a policeperson peering in the windows who would get them for a kid holding alcohol. He took both cans from his son and put the one he didn't want in one of the small coolers beneath the bar counter.

"You need any help back there Zack?" he called.

"Maybe," Zack called back.

Tifa was sitting at the booth with Denzel already; the two of them were setting the table. Tifa had been teaching Denzel about the proper way to set a table lately. Both Zack and Cloud forgot which side the forks went on and all that stuff so Denzel was aiming to be the cultured one.

Zack's neighbor had given him some recipe apparently that Zack had wanted to try out for Family Dinner this week. Cloud strolled into the kitchen, depositing his beer on the counter and walked over to his ex-husband.

Zack was in his work clothes, with the sleeves of his button-up rolled up to his elbows. His hands were covered from mid-forearm down in flecks of meat, oil and spices.

"Meatballs?" Cloud asked, eyeing the sizzling pan, even though it was obvious.

"Mmhm! There's this sweet kinda gravy to go on them too."

"Huh." Cloud surveyed the whole situation. Zack clasped his hands together and wiggled his fingers, making a gross wet noise.

"Nasty," Zack said.

His hair was getting a bit longer than usual; he'd need it cut soon. Sometimes he wore it with his bangs in front of his forehead and sometimes pushed back, except for one spike that hung down. It was like this today, and Cloud found himself reaching up to tug affectionately on that singular spike.

Zack tilted his head towards him a bit. His wide mouth spread into a warm smile. "Hey."

"Hey," Cloud answered. "Thanks for cooking this time around."

"No prob," said Zack, "I can always use the practice, and Teef deserves to relax sometimes."

"Yeah, she does."

Cloud shuffled a bit closer. Zack's hands were back in the mixing bowl. Cloud stayed away from the mess but went into Zack's space. As easy as anything, Cloud raised a hand and cupped the side of that handsome face. Zack pressed his cheek into Cloud's palm, blue eyes flickering up to lock with his.

Cloud kissed him. He stood on his tiptoes and gave Zack the gentlest of smooches. Their lips met warm and sure, pressing and flattening; Cloud's curved and morphed into an affectionate peck. He drew back, but only for as long as it took to lick his lips and move back in for another.

The effortless, chaste kisses continued for a minute or two. They eventually wound down though, the last of them soft and lingering. Cloud gave Zack a last, firm kiss on the mouth and then another on his cheek, and stepped back to let Zack turn over the meatballs. They were a little darker than desired on one side, but they'd still eat them.

"What was that for?" Zack asked. He was smiling.

"Just felt like kissing you," Cloud answered.

Zack shrugged. "Well alright then."

Dinner turned out to be delicious. Zack's neighbor knew his shit, apparently. Cloud and Denzel sat beside each other with Zack and Tifa on the other side; Zack had his arm around Tifa's shoulders, occasionally playing with her hair. "How did it go picking Denzel up?" Cloud asked her, incredibly curious about her answer.

Denzel requested that Tifa retrieve him from school sometime this week—he said that he wanted to spend more time with her, the precious little shit. Cloud had come straight home from his own job and started to prep _Seventh Heaven_ for the evening while she went to get him.

"It went really well," Tifa said with a grin. "When I got there Denzel was playing with the instruments."

Denzel looked a little embarrassed. "Yeah?" Zack asked. "Which one?"

"Mr. Harvey let us borrow a whole bunch of instruments for this week," Denzel said. Mr. Harvey was the school's music teacher. "I had a guitar."

"He was rocking out," Tifa said, that grin growing, "His eyes were all scrunched up and he was banging his head, his hands like this—" She did the air guitar, fingers flying over imaginary strings.

" _Tifaaaa_ ," Denzel said, mortified. He hunkered down in his seat and stared at his lap.

"It was so cute. Third graders can play instruments, Denzy—would you want to maybe sign up for one next year, do you think?"

Denzel didn't answer, staring at his hands. Cloud ducked down a bit and saw those brown eyes were filling with tears.

"Aw, c'mon," Cloud soothed, wrapping his arms around his son. Denzel shrugged them off with a grunt, now facing the wall.

A tantrum was brewing. Cloud rubbed his hand down Denzel's back, ignoring the way Denzel tried to shrug him off again. "Sorry if it seemed like we were making fun of you, buddy," Cloud said. He slowly pulled Denzel across the vinyl and to his side, and tugged the boy against him. Denzel pressed his face into Cloud's chest and refused to come out for about ten minutes, but the screaming was averted to everyone's relief.

"So I guess you met his teacher," Cloud said, absently stroking Denzel's hair with one hand as he ate with the other.

Zack had not yet caught on to all of Cloud's comments about Squall Leonhart and Cloud was pretty glad about it. He wasn't so sure he wanted Zack to know about his silly crush. It wasn't like it mattered, or anything.

"I did." Tifa's eyes were full of amusement but she did a good job of masking everything else. "He's a nice man. He even said that he was happy to finally meet me, can you believe that?"

"I can believe it," Zack said. "I've mentioned you a couple times when chatting with the guy."

Cloud had too. Every single time he came to drop Denzel off or pick the kid up he'd have a conversation with Squall… Squall would push through a crowded room of small children and the occasional caretaker to get to him. Squall would climb down from a ladder where he was stapling student art pieces up near the ceiling to speak with Cloud.

It made Cloud feel wanted as fuck, honestly. And kind of giggly, in a truly bizarre way.

They'd talked about all kinds of things in the month and a half Denzel had been in school. Cloud couldn't help but wonder how their conversation had gone… if Tifa had slyly mentioned Cloud, to get a read on what Squall thought of him (that was the kind of thing Tifa would do, honestly, Cloud knew her). If Squall had thought Tifa was pretty, because nearly everybody did. If Tifa had been impressed by Squall's classroom and by the way Squall treated their son.

Shit—although Leonhart had given Cloud permission to call him 'Squall' Cloud was still rather amazed by his own audacity to do so, even inside his own mind.

"Your food's gonna get cold," Cloud said to Denzel, who was still making a point of pouting and not talking to anybody with his face in Cloud's shirt. He kissed the top of his head and gently pried Denzel away.

Denzel ate, but he made it very clear he wasn't happy about it. The adults mostly ignored him, letting the boy get it out of his system. Cloud looked at Zack, diagonal from him, with a hopeful smile a few minutes later. "What are you doing Sunday the 26th?"

Zack thought for a moment, then: "Denzel and I are going to Kunsel's place. He just moved to his new apartment near the Zoo." Zack tilted his head at Cloud's frown. "Is that okay? I was gonna tell you about it in a few days. Didja have plans?"

Cloud was disappointed, but shook his head. "No, it's fine. The Zoo sounds awesome; Denzel will love it. You free that day, Teef?"

She shook her head. "Catering a wedding event that day."

The surprise was so great Cloud couldn't even be bummed. "Wow," he said, "That's a great gig."

"I know. They're going to pay so well for it! We're doing alcohol; they have another caterer for food. It's going to be fun."

"What's going on the 26th?" Zack asked, in a voice that let Cloud knew he was still feeling kind of bad.

Cloud shrugged. "Eh, the Physical Science Museum is having this big thing, a festival of sorts about space travel. I might go, see if I see anything there that makes me think of you guys."

"That'd be cool," Zack said, and Tifa nodded along enthusiastically. Cloud felt embarrassed.

If he had more friends, maybe he wouldn't have to admit that he'd be going to this thing by himself… but he didn't. There was Barret, but they weren't really _hang out at the Museum_ type friends. Cloud would have to search his brain for anybody else he'd like to bring along.

Cloud changed the subject. "How have things been with you, Zack?"

Zack was preparing this week for a new influx of potential hires; AVALANCHE was getting a new branch. Lots of coordinating with any co-interviewers and resume reviewing. He told them all about a date he had the previous night; she'd come over for dinner, and Denzel had dazzled her with homemade ice cream. Zack had a machine with the kind of crank you had to turn—it needed some hardcore elbow grease, and a hell of a lot of enthusiasm.

Denzel knew all about Zack's dates, of course, and supported them. He told Zack that any new mom or dad of his needed the Denzel seal of approval, and Zack took him seriously.

"I don't think there's gonna be another date, but _man_ , we had some good ice cream, didn't we Denzy?"

"Mmhmm," Denzel said, starting to perk up a bit. "And her dogs are cute."

"They are, they are. She showed Denzel a lot of pictures on her phone of her pets. Are they as cute as Angeal's dogs, though?"

"No way," Denzel declared, "Shiva and Buster are the best dogs I've ever met."

Cloud and Tifa both grinned—they'd heard a _lot_ about Zack's neighbor's dogs in the last month. Denzel said that every time Zack brought him home from school he would go straight from the car to the fence, if the dogs were out, and stick his hands through the wooden posts and play with them. Shiva, the puppy, would jump around and bark and start chasing her tail after greeting Denzel hello. Buster would lick at his hand until Denzel finally retracted it, giggling wildly.

Twice Cloud had met the dogs, at times when he was over Zack's house to hang out and they'd also managed to be out at the same time. They were indeed cute.

Other than the wedding catering event, Tifa did not have much to share that the rest of them did not already know. She went to an autograph signing of one of her favorite fighters and she'd ended up getting a drink with him afterwards—not a real date, she said, but a friend one. He'd shown her a couple moves that were useful in the cagefighting world.

Cloud did not have much to share at all. Work's the usual thing. He'd gone to two other Home & School Council events—one was selling concessions at the high school's opening football game (Cloud didn't particularly care about any grades above elementary level but he'd done the thing, and been awkward as some teenaged girls kept coming up to buy soft pretzels because they'd thought he was cute). Other than that… nothing new. His life was boring.

Zack looked slightly strained. Cloud knew it was because Zack thought that Cloud was content with this life. Having nothing to share meant that everything was perfect.

He was not, and it was not.

But Cloud didn't try to cause a scene now, not with Denzel smiling again and Tifa still so comfortably tucked against Zack's side. Everyone else was happy; no need to disturb that.

Zack was dropping Denzel off. They'd shown up to Family Dinner with Denzel's backpack and some things he might need for the next couple days. Denzel had a bunch of new _Great Ninja Yuffie_ books Zack had gotten him the week before after Cloud brought it up. Late that night Cloud and Denzel curled up together in Denzel's bed and Denzel read out loud to Cloud.

"Yuffie thought that Cait was lying," Denzel said. His soft voice was lulling Cloud to sleep. Cloud had his arms around Denzel's chest and had his face pressed to his hair. The kid smelled nice; he'd just had a shower. He'd needed an onion ring straight from the fryer downstairs as a bribe before he got so much as a toe wet, but he'd done it. "Yuffie marched herself to King Godo's throne and asked for herself. 'Cait can't be working for Reeve,' said Yuffie, "Reeve is a…nin…compoop!"

"Good job," Cloud murmured, "Nincompoop. Know what that means?"

"Someone silly?"

"Yeah, great job. Someone foolish, and not so good at their job."

Denzel repeated the word and kept reading. Cloud soon dozed off, and woke sometime in the early morning when Tifa, finished closing up downstairs, gently shook him awake.

"C'mon," she said, bending to kiss Cloud's flushed forehead, brushing his sweaty bangs off his face. He was still in the long work pants.

"Thanks Teef," Cloud blearily grunted. He wobbled when on his feet and Tifa stabilized him. He hugged her and ran a hand down her back in thanks, patting firmly. She nodded her head.

In the doorway he turned around. Denzel had his book, still open, next to him on the bedspread. Tifa was shutting it and marking his place. She eased him under the blankets and kissed his forehead like she had Cloud's. Tifa really was… a loving and caring mother to Denzel. Cloud smiled, blew her a kiss when she looked his way, and went to bed.

* * *

The thought hit Cloud abruptly on his way up the stairs the next morning, Denzel's hand firmly in his. That familiar anxiety bubbled up as they approached room 2-8. Cloud's suddenly whirling mind made it worse than usual, to the point where he made a beeline for Denzel's table and busied himself with taking Denzel's stuff out of his backpack and fussing with Denzel's light overcoat, so he'd look busy.

That… was certainly a Thought.

Eventually Squall came over though, as he always did.

"Denzel," he greeted warmly, and that bubble burst—but in a good way, with all of Cloud's stress melting away when he saw that smile. Squall was wearing one of his sweatervests and _oh_ but he looked cute as hell in it. It was a stormy gray that matched his eyes with purple lines. Daring. Kind of goofy, yet sophisticated. There really wasn't anything to fear when it came to Mr. Leonhart… or at least not that Cloud knew of.

It was a Thought, and it wasn't a _bad_ Thought.

"Did you have a nice weekend?" Cloud asked. Denzel ran his stuff over to his cubby and Squall stayed with him, his gaze locked with Cloud's, not even pretending to be focused on anything or anyone else.

Squall said he had stayed in reading and watching a TV marathon on Saturday (Tifa had caught two episodes of that same show sometime in the morning, _Triple_ something-something), then gone to the baseball game downtown with some friends on Sunday. "Did we win?" Cloud asked.

"I don't know," Squall answered, "Who goes to those to actually pay attention to the game?"

Cloud laughed, and Squall said with a smile that was almost a smirk that warmed Cloud down to his toes, "We lost. I still had a good time, though."

It wasn't until Cloud was riding Fenrir to work that he wondered if perhaps Leonhart was on a date with one of those 'friends' he'd gone to the game with. Maybe he was like Zack, going on a string of dates trying in vain to find The One… his Thought had a minor setback, but by that afternoon he'd reasoned it out, and had another pleasant conversation with Squall. One of the other second grade teachers had baked him some sort of toffee brittle, and he gave Cloud a piece, in return for the brownie. "Don't tell the other parents," Squall said, "Or I'll be accused of favoritism."

"I thought it was common knowledge that I'm your favorite," Cloud answered cooly, accepting the snack, "But hey, my lips are zipped."

He'd sort of strutted his way out the door after that one.

He thought about the Thought the next day, and the next one. Then the one after that. And finally on Friday, where Cloud could hide in shame for the next two days in case this went awry, Cloud sucked it up and asked Leonhart out.

"Are you interested in science at all?" he asked. It was fairly empty in the room, and the end of the day. They had just finished talking about the warm weather expected for the next week.

Squall was digging at a stubborn staple embedded in the wall with a staple remover. "Hm? Yes, I suppose. More on the pop culture side of things than anything. I've seen all the episodes of _The Lifestream_."

Cloud grinned—that was a popular TV program where astronaut and astrophysicist Cid Highwind led viewers through the 'universe' and taught them everything from what neutrons were to how they calculated the rate at which the outer edges of the universe were accelerating outward. It was a good show, and led _perfectly_ into Cloud's next sentence.

"Well!" he said, realizing too late that he was a little over-enthusiastic, "Actually, Cid Highwind is going to be at the Physical Science Museum in Sector 1 next Sunday. There's a festival, kind of, about the future of spaceflight. He's giving a talk about the likelihood of humans traveling to Bahamut in the next couple years. Figured maybe you'd be interested in going with me."

For a long moment, Leonhart continued to dig for the staple. Cloud could practically see the gears whirring inside that shaggy brown-haired head. He said, without looking at Cloud, "Next Sunday?"

"Yeah, the 26th."

"I can do that," Squall said, quietly. He seemed a little shy now. That gave Cloud even more strength, oddly enough, and he moved a bit to the side, so he could see more of Squall's face.

"Yeah? That would be great."

Squall seemed to nod to himself before looking at Cloud. His expression was a bit unreadable, but mostly, he looked happy.

"I haven't been to that museum in years. It'll be good to go back, to see what's changed."

Cloud said with his sudden burst of confidence as he nodded, "Yeah, it will be."

They didn't make definite plans for times or anything right now. It was enough that Cloud had set up the date. Usually Cloud stayed to talk with Leonhart a little longer (maybe half the time he and Denzel stayed late enough that they would walk out to the parking lot with the teacher) but Cloud grabbed his son and left before he could make an ass out of himself somehow.

Denzel thought that Cloud liked Mr. Leonhart as much as he did, and had said once or twice that he was happy the two of them were friends. Cloud usually grinned and said that he was too, then winced when his son looked away… it was a complicated situation. Certainly nothing he was going to tell Denzel about, but damn if he didn't feel guilty sometimes. Once Denzel fell asleep that night Cloud spent a short time sitting on the side of his bed, watching him sleep. Denzel, like most small children, got very flushed and sweaty when he slept; his pajamas stuck to him and his bangs got damp. Cloud pushed them off his forehead and eased the blanket back a bit so he could cool off.

"Sleep well, buddy," Cloud murmured eventually, and went downstairs.

He had no work the next day this week and could stay up late, so he grabbed one of the black half-aprons Tifa had in the back and stepped up to the bar to help her out. Friday night was always busy at Seventh Heaven, and this one proved to be no exception. The music was louder than usual and the bass thudded all the way up in Denzel's room, making some of his toys and trinkets vibrate on his dresser. Luckily Denzel found the muted noises soothing, and not irritating, but Cloud still felt bad about it.

"Thanks," Tifa said after he got his first few customers. She didn't pay him for the time he spent helping out like this but she didn't need to; Cloud ate for free from the kitchens every night anyway and although he paid Tifa rent just being allowed to live here at all was worth a thousand nights of bartending.

In between customers Cloud and Tifa chatted, catching up on each other's day. Cloud's Thought had become a Thing now and the Thing rammed at the back of his teeth and smashed against his tongue until he could no longer contain it, and it came out as a quick, "I did something stupid today" after running another food order back to the kitchen staff.

"What'd you do?" Tifa's eyes were narrowing slightly—Cloud had done a lot of stupid things in his day and she had to clean up the mess from at least half of them.

When everyone vying for their attention seemed satisfied and they had a minute or two to themselves, Cloud drew Tifa back against the back counter and said, "I asked Squall out on a date this afternoon. To the thing at the museum next Sunday."

"Is that allowed?" was Tifa's first thought.

Cloud shrugged. "I dunno. I don't think he would have said yes if it wasn't."

"I doubt it happens often that teachers get involved with parents so it's probably not even a thing," Tifa said slowly, reasoning it out. "But shit, good for you!" She punched his shoulder and Cloud laughed even as he winced and rubbed it. "He seemed excited?"

"He never seems excited about anything," Cloud replied after some thought. "But I think he was into it."

Cloud had Denzel during the middle of the next week and Squall still seemed into it. They didn't mention their upcoming date again until Thursday, and that was because Cloud brought it up, as it was the last time he'd see Squall until their date. Zack was picking Denzel up from school that afternoon; Cloud was dropping him off in the morning. All week Cloud's stress about it would wax and wane and he got damn tired of it so decided to just shove it down and survive this conversation and the next few days ( _and actually because Ramuh and Ifrit were in the same part of the night sky from this continent for the next month or so he would be able to observe their waxing and waning almost completely in sync)._

Ten-thirty, half an hour after the museum opened. They were going to meet on the front steps. Cloud figured they'd check it all out for a few hours, then go get lunch nearby. That would be that.

"See you Sunday," Cloud said, with a last smile.

Leonhart smiled back—and he was a vision in a sweater vest, he really, really was. His eyes, so warm and sending prickles up the back of Cloud's neck, swept over him with a tangible heat. "I'll see you Sunday, Cloud."

Cloud suddenly wasn't sure if Leonhart had ever said his first name before. …At the very least, even if he had, he'd never said it like _that,_ to be sure.

Despite Cloud telling himself not to get nervous about it he was a mess on Saturday. There were a million different ways his date with Denzel's teacher could go. Cloud felt confident he could handle all of them; he'd had some spectacularly bad dates in the past and really good ones too, but that didn't mean his mind wasn't running in circles about it all anyway.

All the top tier dates he'd ever had were all provided by one man… one man that Cloud was missing a lot, these days, so he came over that evening. Denzel was happy to see him, though not quite happy enough to abandon the game he was playing on the floor of the living room on Zack's large television, and Zack's grin was a mile wide.

Cloud loved them both so fucking much—it goddamn _hurt._ Not even the conspicuous lack of the mailbox in the driveway could derail his good mood. He had dinner with them, something Zack cooked while Cloud relaxed with his feet up. Denzel told him that he and Zack had gone over to Angeal's house that afternoon for an hour or so to play with his dogs.

"You really like them, don't you?" Cloud asked.

Denzel nodded seriously. "I love them," he said. Both Cloud and Zack made eye contact across the dinner table and had to bite back sudden, hysterical laughter. "Angeal is really nice too," Denzel added.

"I'll have to meet him someday soon." Cloud smiled warmly at the both of them. He knew Zack liked his new neighbor too; Cloud hadn't heard a whole lot about this man, but he knew he had a cool job, something with plants, and was very kind to the two most important boys in his life. That went a long way, honestly. "You think you can introduce us, Papa?"

"Huh?" Zack had a strange expression on his face. "…Yeah, sure, I guess."

Cloud frowned. "Denzel, he wants to keep your cool neighbor all to himself."

Denzel giggled. "Angeal already knows about you—he and Papa were talking about you the other day in the backyard when I was playing catch with Shiva and Buster."

"Really?" Cloud raised an eyebrow, shooting Zack a coy look; he hoped they were _good_ things being said about him.

Zack grinned—Cloud didn't need to worry about stuff like that. "We talk about all kinds of stuff. You inevitably pop up every few days. My _best friend in the whole world_ is always on my mind, you know?"

"Same for me," Cloud said, and the two of them gave each other an exaggerated fist-bump across the table. Truthfully, they played up the 'best friend' thing quite a bit when Denzel was around, to solidify and reinforce what they'd told him as they were getting their divorce. They also avoided doing anything that could be interpreted as romantic, even when they really wanted to. An hour later Cloud felt like crawling out of his own skin and over onto Zack's lap, starved for physical affection and needing it desperately from this man in particular. Denzel was reading a book on the carpeted floor, though, and seeing his dads cuddle…well, that would be awfully confusing for the kid.

Cloud managed to wait until Denzel went upstairs to bed, then scooted over and nestled himself against Zack, his back to that warm, broad chest. Zack's arms looped around his waist and stomach and his chin fell to Cloud's shoulder. Cloud wiggled back a bit, as blissed out as a kitten getting scritched in just the right spot, and briefly nuzzled his head against Zack's.

"Well, hello," Zack said, and kissed his temple.

"Hey," Cloud answered simply. He was not here for a sexual reason—just a closeness one. The two men fell quiet for a long time, Zack's eyes on the television and Cloud's on Zack's tablet in his lap, displaying his page for his most recent e-book. Zack's grip on him was warm and sure…occasionally his fingers would play with the hem of Cloud's shirt and a thumb would stroke the skin of his belly, but not for long. A couple times his head turned and he'd press soft, gentle kisses to Cloud's ear, making the blond smile.

Zack asked, after a time, "What are you thinking about?"

"Hm?"

"You've been on that page this entire commercial break."

Cloud chuckled, glancing down. He'd been thinking about whether to mention his date with Squall the next morning or not. "I was thinking about how much things are changing," he answered, and burrowed himself a little deeper into Zack's embrace. "And that even if things aren't perfect, I have you, so it's not all bad. You know?"

"…Yeah," Zack answered. Those arms tightened around him, and even Zack's legs caged him in a bit too, keeping him close. There were lots of times when this sort of thing was too much for them—it made them think too much of their married days. It would have been too awkward with a different atmosphere. But for right now, this was fine; this was _great_. "You've got me and that ain't changing. You gotta promise you're not gonna leave me, Cloud."

Was Zack afraid of something like that? "I promise," Cloud answered. "I can't do this by myself."

"Neither can I," Zack answered, with another kiss to the side of Cloud's head. "I'm serious, though. I don't… know what I'd do without you."

Cloud wondered why both of them had the loss of the other on their mind so much lately. For Cloud, it was Squall, probably—letting someone new in so often meant losing somebody else. Cloud would not let that happen. Zack, though? Who knew.

"You and me aren't going anywhere," Cloud said, a firmness in his voice that surprised even him.

"We better not." Zack turned his attention back to the TV, Cloud to his book, and they fell back into comfortable companionship for the rest of the evening.

* * *

At ten twenty-five Cloud was waiting on the front steps of the Midgar Physical Science Museum. It was in a part of town that, frankly, glittered compared to most of the rest of it. There were wide, grassy lawns and fancy architecture; nearby buildings were all either brick and dainty-looking, from an age long gone, or brand new and gleaming with reflective glass and crisp metal surfaces. The steps to the museum were long and wide and worn in the middles from all the feet that had trekked up them over the years.

It was Cloud's favorite museum in the city. There were a bunch of others, some free to visit and some not, and he'd been to all of them except for one—there was a museum full of disgusting propagandic material created by the members of a political party Cloud couldn't even stand to think about, let alone see in person. That was in the really ritzy part of town but this was just a few blocks from downtown, in a carefully-crafted, almost removed pocket of the city.

Ten thirty.

Cloud shifted on his feet, looking left and right in a way that hopefully didn't make it too obvious he was waiting for somebody. Around him, people bustled. The museum was busy today; the programming must have brought in a lot of people. That was good. Hopefully Squall was fine with crowds… Cloud hadn't thought to ask.

Oh, Gaia—what if he was bad with crowds, and would hate their visit? What if he was going to have a horrible time because he had no interest in space, and had only answered Cloud's question the way he had because he was being polite?

Cloud physically shook his head to snap himself out of it. It was ten thirty-four, and he was getting anxious. There were a bunch of reasons to explain why Squall was late… maybe his bus or train got held up due to traffic or congestion underground… maybe he was just on the wrong road, and was scratching his head a few blocks away...

They had not exchanged phone numbers, and maybe they should have. Maybe Squall was twenty feet away and they just couldn't spot each other in the crowd…

At ten thirty-six Cloud's eyes stopped scanning the crowd to focus on a man coming up to him, appearing big and bold in his field of vision. Squall was slightly out of breath. "Hey," he said, through soft pants, "Sorry, I—was waiting on the steps on the other side of the building by mistake. Took me a couple minutes to realize I was at the wrong spot." He waved a hand in the direction of the museum; on the other side were other, smaller sets of staircases and another main road of Midgar.

"Don't worry about it," Cloud said, "Glad you found me."

"Yeah," Squall said, running a hand through his thick brown hair, "Me too."

That line came out a whole lot more intense than it was supposed to, undoubtedly, and awkwardness settled over both of them. Cloud couldn't help but feel that magnified as he took in Squall's clothes. He looked just as good without a sweater vest. He was in nice, tight jeans with a simple white t-shirt and a black leather jacket. Cloud felt horribly underdressed in his goofy Gaian Aeronautics and Space Assembly t-shirt; it had the company's logo splashed on the front and a smiling comet on the shoulder.

Cloud asked, "So, uh, you said you haven't been here in a long time, yeah?"

"Mmhmm, I haven't."

"Some new exhibits went in in the past two years—hopefully one or two will catch your eye. C'mon, let's go in."

They got in the line at the front doors that went through security. Cloud got a weird satisfaction of putting his electronics in a little bin along with Squall's to go through the X-Ray machine because they were _together_ —visiting the museum together, that is. They got in without incident (phew; Squall carrying firearms on him was certainly something that would have been a dealbreaker) and went to the Welcome Desk.

They chatted about mundane things through that trip past security and while Cloud grabbed a map. It was stilted, slightly uncomfortable small talk, not unlike what they shared in the classroom every now and again when another parent was too close by or one of them was self-conscious about what all of this was. Cloud persisted though; when both of them were comfortable the conversation flowed so easily. Their chemistry was so tangible Cloud sometimes felt like he could reach out in the space between them and grab at it.

The Physical Science Museum was an extremely large building, and largely separated into several massive 'cubes'. There were two floors and the five main 'cubes' made ten large squarish exhibit halls all together. There was a main concourse though that stretched from the outer edges of the farthest ends of the building, and whose ceilings stretched up to the top of the second floor… it was in this area that the curators had put the long, tall rockets and replica warheads, and the skeletons of dinosaurs that were too large to fit into other areas of the museum.

Some of the most popular things to see were along this concourse, and as Cloud grabbed the map from an elderly volunteer at the welcome desk, Squall's head was turning left and right as he took it in. The closest thing to them was the backup copy of a rover that had landed on Ifrit ten years ago and was still transmitting images to Gaia at this very moment.

Squall was a reserved guy. He smiled, but they weren't wide smiles. He could be silly, and made jokes, but nothing he did or Cloud had done had made him throw his head back and laugh with abandon. When something embarrassing happened—like when one of Denzel's classmates had tripped and poured regrettably chunky brown paint all over Squall's pants while Cloud was watching and it looked like he'd soiled himself, he'd even managed to smooth _that_ one over.

So Leonhart was playing it cool, like he always did (Cloud was trying to figure out if it was a thing he put on, and there was more hiding beneath, or if this collected calm was how he always acted) but Cloud could tell he was intrigued by all there was to take in around them and wanted to explore.

"That's the _Intrepid III_ ," Cloud said, returning to Squall's side. He had strolled over and was inspecting the rover. Its thick, wide and heavy wheels were unlike anything found on Gaia, and the shape of its machinery and arms that extended to conduct experiments positively alien.

"'Intrepid' has a bit of a negative connotation," Squall said, glancing at Cloud for a moment. "Adventurous or fearless but to a fault, usually a humorous one—like an explorer who goes on a quest, only for a series of awful things to happen to them."

Cloud shrugged, and forced down the way his stomach flipped at Squall talking about damn _word definitions_ with him. Squall's voice wasn't as deep as some others, but it had a great sound to it, something not quite a country drawl but an interesting lilt to his words that… _Focus, Strife._ He said aloud, "They're scientists, not poets. You'd think someone would have realized that before the third prototype of the thing though."

Unfolding the map, Cloud held it between them. It was a good opportunity for Cloud to press close until their arms brushed, both of them hunched over it. Cloud knew this museum like the back of his hand but Squall needed a refresher, and they spent a couple minutes identifying where things were.

Some exhibits changed out every couple of months, and were not reflected on the map which was updated every year or so, probably. It just said _revolving exhibit_ in two of the cubes; Cloud made a mental note to check them out, see if there was anything interesting this time around.

Along the main concourse today were rows of tables set up with craft activities staffed by volunteers ('make your own mission patch' was one) and by companies with small demonstrations out. There was a stage at the far end of the museum that Cloud could see part of if he stood on his tiptoes and craned his neck (Squall was hiding a smile); Cid Highwind would undoubtedly be there later on.

"Well," Squall said, his hands on those infuriatingly distracting hips of his, "Where do you want to go first?"

Cloud had no problem taking charge. Things weren't going to heat up with the Festival until noon at least, so they had some time to kill. Luckily for Squall, Cloud knew all of the best things to see here. He led Squall first to his favorite gallery in the whole building, which happened to be on the first floor and fairly close to the entrance.

 _It's Not Magic, It's Science!_ was the title of the gallery, and large words reading as much over the entranceway greeted them. This large cube explained the science behind several things you could see elsewhere in the museum. It put things into context, it made things digestible for audiences of varying ages, and it was hands-on… it was Cloud's kind of place, and certainly a good place to bring a date.

Why?

Well, Cloud could show off.

The first thing he and Squall did was head to the closest section, about light—what it was, how it refracted through prisms, how fast it could travel, how it was being harnessed for power (that was Barrett's specialty!), and a dozen other cool things. The walls were brightly colored and the loud chatter of children and families cocooned the both of them.

"Want to know something cool?" Cloud asked as they slowly made their way along the back wall.

Squall was the type who preferred to take their time in a museum, which Cloud could appreciate. Zack had trouble focusing all his attention on the miniscule text and same idea for too long, so when they visited museums together Cloud couldn't devote as much time as he usually wanted to everything. He was being quiet, which made Cloud uneasy… and their conversation thus far had been kind of awkward and a little forced (because this was a _date_ and Cloud had not been on a _date_ in a very long time and they could not pretend their flirting meant nothing when they were in Denzel's classroom, and yes, this _Was A Date_ ) but… his silences seemed thoughtful, because he was genuinely trying to process all that he was reading.

He asked, "What?"

"Scientists can figure out what stars are made of from here on Gaia. It's surprisingly easy. This method isn't foolproof, but you can get pretty far this way." Cloud saw he had Squall's attention, and gestured at a tiny display on a table in a corner. "Stars give off light, yeah? Lots of it. And depending on what gases are burning on the star, it'll give off different kinds."

In a small bin were plastic viewing glasses, not unlike those at a movie theater where you could view 3-D films. On the table were small test-tube looking lights, and a few switches.

Cloud handed Squall a pair of glasses, and then on second thought, boldly slid them on the man himself, brushing away some of that soft brown hair afterward so the man could see. Behind the frames Squall's eyes narrowed at him.

"When I hit the switch the gas inside the tube will be electrified, and it will glow. These glasses are going to refract the light and you're going to see bars of quite a few colors appear out on either side of it." There was a chart on the wall beside them it showing a few charts of the visible color spectrum, and which colors, if seen, would indicate what gases they were looking at.

"Okay," Squall said, nodding. He crossed his arm and shifted his weight to one of his those long legs, waiting expectantly.

Cloud hit the switch, and the gas inside the tube flared up into brilliant color. He put on his glasses and stared at it. In the middle was the hot brightness—this gas was a pinkish color—and now out on the sides of Cloud's vision, refracted by the lenses, were three other lines of color.

"I see blue, green, and red," Squall said after a moment. He seemed mildly impressed. Cloud gestured at the chart—a blue, green and a dull red meant… "Selenium," Squall said. "Try another one."

Cloud did, grinning. Sodium glowed a bright yellow, and that was it. Lithium—red, orange, green, and the faintest of blues. Calcium and Nitrogen were all kinds of pretty colors.

Scientists observed the arrays of colors coming off a star and were then able to determine the gases that made up that star—which was pretty fucking cool, if you asked Cloud. Sometimes the gas makeup could provide insight to the age of the star as well.

"Looks like I'm learning today," Squall said, giving Cloud a lazy once-over as he put his glasses back.

"Guess so."

The rest of the _It's Science_ exhibit had a bunch of cool things to offer. In the section about electricity Squall stood on a rubber mat and put his hands on a Van de Graff generator. It was a large metal ball with rubber moving around felt on the inside, stripping the felt of its electrons and creating tons of static electricity… Squall started to laugh—laugh!—at the prickly feeling on his body, and at how his hair started to lift supernaturally.

It quickly stuck out in all directions like his hair was trying to get as far away from Squall and the other strands as possible (which they were, actually—all those electrons now moved to Squall's body wanted to get away from each other). Cloud watched from the side with a grin.

"You should do it," Squall said after stepping off. He touched Cloud's shoulder, perhaps hoping he'd give the blond man a shock; the rubber mat had taken care of that, though. Regardless, Squall's hand lingered on Cloud's shoulder, and his thumb even rubbed. Warmth seeped from his palm through Cloud's Gaian Aeronautics and Space Assembly t-shirt.

"With my hair it already looks like I'm touching one of those things," Cloud muttered, "I'll never get it to look decent again afterwards. C'mon."

When they learned about the water cycle, Squall cracked a horrible joke and gestured to the words 'Cloud Formation' on the wall. Cloud frowned, but it was all for show; he was pleased as Tifa's signature _Seventh Heaven_ punch that Squall was starting to relax more and more around him.

To demonstrate drag there were different shapes in small air tunnels, and some text about how drag functioned in the real world. Streamlined dolphins could cut through the water while flying squirrels extended their limbs and parachute-like skin to increase the surface area that the wind hit, thus increasing their drag and slowing them down. There was also a real wind tunnel that hit the both of them so hard Squall stumbled and fell into Cloud.

Laughing, Cloud put his hands on Leonhart's hips to support him, and kept them there for longer than strictly necessary. Both their hair was a damn mess despite Cloud wanting to keep it nice, but Cloud was having such a good time he hardly cared.

They held magnets and watched as they exerted a force on a current-carrying wire. They looked at different kind of motors, and Cloud eagerly explained how he'd designed Fenrir's. Cloud got to teach Squall about lift, smiling to himself as he remembered Denzel's hand coasting up and down outside of his work truck. They read about buoyancy and how archaeologists used Carbon-14 dating to get an idea of the age of an object, and how genetic code was passed on to offspring.

"When Tifa was pregnant with Denzel," Cloud said, grinning, "She, Zack and I all made punnet squares of a couple traits and picked what we thought Denzel was gonna end up with."

Squall sighed, "That's incredibly nerdy."

"Yeah, it really is. None of us were right with everything, but I got a few things. It was like Fantasy Football."

"Of the human body."

"Er, yeah."

They wanted decent seats for Cid Highwind's speech so left before too long. They sat on cramped plastic chairs (Squall shifted so his knee bumped against Cloud's and kept it there).

"Tell me, Mr. Strife," Squall said as the area filled up, "How do you know all this stuff? Just a hobby?"

Cloud sucked on the inside of his cheek as he thought, looking around. The stage was small but circular, so people could sit all around it. They'd be able to see Cid's face. "…A hobby," Cloud decided on after a moment. "Though I wanted to move into a science field professionally for most of my life. Thought maybe I was going to get my PHD in astrophysics eventually."

Squall's eyebrows rose slightly, but Cloud wasn't watching him; he just glanced over for a moment. He could sense the question on Squall's tongue that he was too polite to ask. _Why are you working for Highwind's Delivery, then?_

"I majored in physics for undergrad," Cloud said. His knee bounced, restless. "But my mom got sick in my second year. I had to drop out to go take care of her… and when she died after just a couple months, I couldn't go back. Didn't have the support, nor the funds on my own." Cloud shrugged. "I just, y'know, worked in the city so I could move back from Nibelheim and stay with Zack, my Ex. Eventually Denzel came along, and, y'know. You get caught up in that kind of stuff. Time slips by."

"Yeah," Squall said. Cloud saw him nod out of his peripheral vision. "It does."

Cloud wondered what had slipped by Squall; if there were things he'd wanted to accomplish with his life too that had gone unrealized.

"Someday I want to finish undergrad, at the very least," Cloud sighed. "I like being a delivery boy but it ain't want I want to do for the rest of my life."

"That's a shame," Squall said. "I'm sure you'll manage it."

Cloud, previously trying not to look at Squall, turned his head. Squall met his gaze head on. The empathy in his eyes made Cloud's heart hurt.

All Cloud could do was nod jerkily and distract himself. He pulled the flyer for today's event out of the tiny pack he now had on the floor between his feet, and showed it to Leonhart. As Cloud had told him in the classroom, Cid was here to talk about the likelihood of humans getting to Bahamut, the next-closest planet in their solar system, in the next couple years.

"The interesting thing is," Cloud told Squall, shifting so his legs pressed more fully against the other man's, "We've had the technology to send humans to other planets for over a decade now. We have rockets powerful enough to launch a pod like the ones we sent to the moons that far."

"Oh?" Squall frowned; that pretty lower lip of his grew a little more plump with the movement.

"Yeah. Actually… it's _humans_ that can't survive the trip. At least—not in the small containers we'd have to send them in."

Even a very small payload required huge amounts of rocket fuel and resources to get it up there. Sending a small group of humans to space took a massive rocket… and it was possible, provided the craft they stayed in was cramped and small. There was no room to stand or walk—the purpose of these things was only to stay in it for a day or two until you could dock with a space station or engage with a larger, liveable pod or unit down on Ramuh or Ifrit.

Humans needed exercise, though. Out in space people were weightless; on Gaia actively working against gravity at all times made muscles and bones grow strong. Without that constant resistance, people grew weak… it was mandatory that astronauts worked out for several hours a day on space stations, and that simply wasn't possible in a craft to transport people for very long just yet. People could be sent in the traditional craft, but upon landing their muscles might not be able to withstand Bahamut's gravity, even if it was lesser than Gaia's.

"Think about it," Cloud said earnestly, trying to paint Squall the picture. "It takes about seven months to get to Bahamut. The people onboard would need seven months of food. They'd need a working toilet. They'd need room for stationary bikes and resistance equipment. And sending something that big and heavy all at once into space… we can't do that yet. Humans are pretty weak—we need a lot of help to survive out there."

Squall had that look on his face that Cloud adored seeing on anybody. It was excitement, and a little bit of fear. He looked daunted. He looked impressed, and satisfied with his new understanding of human spaceflight… it was a good expression for Squall to have, Cloud decided.

Sheesh, they really were a couple of nerds.

The bright lights on the stage flashed into life, aimed towards the middle of the circular platform. Cloud sat a little straighter as the buzz in the hall started to quiet. Out came the curator for one of the exhibits on the second floor, _Out of This World_ , one entirely devoted to outer space. She welcomed them and talked for a bit about what the PSM had accomplished in the last year (three new exhibits, several thousand items catalogued, a large number of volunteer hours, such and such number of class visits…).

Then she said, "We have a very special visitor with us at MPSM today. I have a feeling some of you might be interested in talking to him?"

The crowd thundered their agreement, with clapping hands and some stomping feet. Cloud stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled, making a tiny child in the row in front of them turn around and laugh.

"Right, right," she sighed, looking glum. "I'll get off the stage then. I'd like to introduce my guest—he is the proud author of four printed books and over thirty articles on spaceflight and the history of Gaia's aeronautics program. He was the first individual to set foot on Ramuh, the second of our moons. He. . ."

She went on, listing Cid Highwind's credentials. There were many. Cloud's anticipation built and built until it threatened to burst out of him, like he was young again and waiting for presents on Solstice morning… and although his attention was fixed on the stage he didn't forget about his date, either. He glanced at Squall, to see if he was excited too. Squall looked it, and smiled back when Cloud grinned at him.

Finally, the curator said, "Everyone, please give a warm welcome to Cid Highwind!"

The crowd clapped vigorously as the retired astronaut came out from a _Staff Only_ door on the side of the room. Cid Highwind did not walk to the stage—he _strutted_ there.

Cid was all scientist, but also all celebrity. He had the kind of backstory that lent itself well to that sort of thing. Grew up poor in Rocket Town. Was fascinated with space at an early age. Started with airships, and graduated to spacecraft. Had a fantastic country-home accent and the kind of quick, sometimes dirty wit that charmed everybody. His occasionally foul mouth brought far more laughs and feelings of endearment than it did annoyance.

Everybody adored Cid Highwind. Cloud Strife included.

"Heeeey, everybody!" Cid roared into the microphone, more like a rock star than anything. He was clad in the very same t-shirt as Cloud (!) though his had an extra logo on the arm, and slightly distressed jeans. It looked like Cid had just climbed out of an air or space ship, seduced a beautiful woman, tended to the horses on the ranch he undoubtedly had somewhere, and then strolled into the museum. It was a complicated image, all things considered, but one that Cid bore well.

Squall coughed out a laugh beside him, and Cloud playfully jabbed his elbow into Squall's side. He knew Cid was an absolute ham; that was half the reason why Cloud liked him so much.

"It's good to be back in the ol' city of Midgar," Cid said, waving a hand back to a small child who was waving at him from the front row. "There's nothin' quite like lookin' out at the skyline here… well, I gotta say, hurtling in orbit around Ramuh at seventeen thousand miles per hour _might_ be a _little_ more impressive, though…"

The audience ate it up, and Cid ate up their enthusiasm.

Highwind (and Cloud privately wondered briefly if someone in Cid's family was the same Highwind from _Highwind Delivery_ , his place of work) was here to talk about people on Bahamut. He was an expert, being the first person to set foot on the farther of Gaia's two moons, after all.

Three of Cid's books and a number of his articles were about garnering support and disseminating info about the likelihood of people on the next-closest planet in the next few years.

Cid believed it could happen. When someone like Cid said it, Cloud couldn't help but believe.

Highwind described for them, in vivid detail, what it would be like on Bahamut. The planet was blue from the mineral composition of its crusts, with constant, gusty winds and tall, craggy mountain ranges. There was water, frozen underneath the surface. It was a bit cooler than Gaia but certainly warm enough to inhabit, someday. The atmosphere was thicker; it would be nearly impossible to breathe without scientific intervention… but humans would start to adapt, after dozens and dozens of generations.

As Cid wove his tale Cloud, utterly spellbound, imagined himself as that first human to take that brave first step on Bahamut… blueish dust whipping against the visor of his space suit, his own ragged breath echoing in his ears. It was a powerful thing. Whoever that person was, they would be a hero… their species finally managing to begin the colonization of their next door neighbor. Imagine, looking up at those tall spires! Knowing nobody else had done so before! Standing alone on that lonely planet as the sun set, casting everything into deep, rich indigo…

Cloud looked over; Squall was watching him.

For a moment Cloud stared back, his breath catching in his throat. Their gazes locked and lingered, just as powerful as Cloud's daydream and Cid's imagery, making Cloud clutch at the plastic seat as heat zinged through his core and left him shaken.

On a large projector screen that dropped from the ceiling Cid showed them graphs, charts and pictures. Bahamut's blue landscape was alien to all of them… but so damn exciting. The place begged to be explored by humans, not another land rover. Chewing on a stick the whole time, Cid told them what they could do to help this goal be realized—namely, talk to local representatives about funding for space programs, and to work hard in science themselves. "I'm gonna need all the damn help I can get," Cid declared, to a wince from a couple of the museum staff and to hollers from the crowd.

Cloud was slightly embarrassed, how into it all he was… but Leonhart didn't seem to mind how Cloud would whisper into his ear and explain things Cid was talking about if Squall seemed lost. That gentle, indulgent smile on his face never faded.

When the curator came back on stage, thanked Highwind for his time, and said that those wanting autographs could form a line on the side where they set up stanchions, Cloud had him and Squall out of their seats almost immediately. Cloud hauled both their stuff over one arm and reached back with the other for Squall's; he dragged the man across the room, squeezing between families and beating them to line. They were one of the first forty or so to get there, and once in line Cloud let out a great sigh, handing Squall his coat. "Made it," he said, wiping imaginary sweat off his brow.

"You really want his autograph."

"Yeah." Cloud scuffed his boot, a small moment of insecurity. "You don't have to wait in line with me, if you don't want," he offered, shrugging, "We can meet up somewhere after—"

"No, it's fine." Squall stuck his hands in his pockets. "I want to wait with you. And hey—I'll be able to say I met an astronaut. That's pretty cool."

"It's cooler that you're taking all this nerdy shit in good stride," Cloud quipped, grinning. "Thanks."

"I'm having a good time," Leonhart assured him. "Move up, Mr. Strife."

Cloud had been so absorbed in the teacher he'd not realized the folks ahead of him had scooted forward. In line they chatted about what kind of science lessons Leonhart had planned for the year ahead, and it trailed off into nervous silence (on Cloud's part) as they approached Cid.

The astronaut had just slicked his hair back with water he'd poured into his palm from a water bottle as Cloud stopped before him, pulling his favorite of Cid's books out of his pack.

"Nice shirt, Captain," Cloud said, hoping he didn't sound nearly as star-struck as he felt.

"Huh?" Cid blinked at him, then focused on Cloud's t-shirt. "Hey!" he said, with a deep smoker's chuckle. (One of Cloud's favorite passages in this book had been a half-page ornery rant about how Cid craved cigarettes whenever he was in space; for obvious reasons, he could not smoke inside spacecraft.) "Lookin' good, Spiky."

He accepted Cloud's book and opened the front cover. "What's yer name?"

"Cloud. Like the things in the sky," he added when Cid squinted, probably trying to figure out if he'd said _Claude_.

"To 'Cloud,'" Cid muttered as he started to scribble, "With a name like that you practically belong off the ground."

"Not interested." Cloud shrugged. "I get motion sick in cars—don't think I'd last too long in something spinning one revolution per second like the eighth _Diamond_ mission."

"You know about that?" Cid looked impressed. "Someone knows his stuff. I'll tell ya—no amusement park rides can hold a candle ta that fiasco. I didn't think we were gonna make it outta that one."

"Using the RCS control thrusters to stop the spinning and figure out which of the other thrusters was malfunctioning was brilliant," Cloud said, referring to a lesser-known failure of a mission that had almost ended in the deaths of Highwind and two other astronauts, where a thruster malfunctioned on the side of the craft and started spinning the whole thing at vertigo-inducing speeds for over a whole minute, "Risky, though."

Although a staffperson was subtly trying to gesture at Cid to hurry it up, he and Cloud chatted for a minute more. Cloud got details on some of the things he'd only read about before—it was mindblowing!—and even confessed, after Cid asked if he worked for one of the space centers in the city, that no, he didn't; a long time ago he'd wanted to, but he hadn't finished college. Throughout this, he felt Leon's presence at his back, sturdy and strong.

Cid looked empathetic, but not pitying. Cloud hated pity. "I look forward to seeing you on Bahamut with me," Cid said, grinning and handing Cloud's book back after finishing up his autograph.

Cloud snorted. "Yeah right. Thanks, old man."

Cid laughed, and Cloud gave him a two-fingered salute with his pinky pointed out like Cid always did when he posed for photos.

"Thanks for letting me do that," Cloud said, smiling as genuinely at Squall as he could. He stuffed his book back into his pack and shouldered it. "You wanna go get something to eat now?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty hungry."

They decided to stroll back to the other end of the museum, but go up to the second floor and walk along there. There was an exhibit on religion and science, and how the two could go hand-in-hand to make sense of the human experience. One all about the flora of the tropical rainforests outside Mideel (Cloud wondered if Zack's fancy-pants plant-loving neighbor had seen it). There was even one, and this was one of the newest exhibits not on their map, about _Triple Triad,_ one of those things that had started out as a card game, then morphed into a TV-show cult-fandom love.

It took a couple steps for Cloud to realize Squall had stopped short. He turned around, eyeing the brunet. His attention was fixed solely on the entrance to the Triple Triad gallery.

"It's some card game thing," Cloud said, "Like, roleplaying, I think? And it's about aliens—probably why it's connected to the _Life on Other Planets_ exhibit…"

"They're not aliens," Leonhart corrected, tucking hair behind one of his ears, wide-eyed, "They're Guardian Forces. Each solar system in our galaxy is protected and characterized by a certain GF."

"…Oh," Cloud said, squinting.

"Let's check it out," Squall said, striding away quickly. He paused and looked over his shoulder to see if Cloud was following; the blond scrambled to catch up, and they entered the gallery together.

Cloud was utterly lost; the barrage of characters, both hand-drawn and still portraits of real people that had starred in the show, was overwhelming. One entire wall was plastered in pictures of odd-looking runes and pictures of strange creatures—the Guardian Forces, perhaps?

Squall grabbed Cloud's hand like Cloud had earlier (Cloud's heart was hammering in his chest; this wasn't to get to point A or B, but because Leonhart wanted to hold his hand, no doubts in either of their minds what this was anymore) and navigated their way through the exhibit, because it all apparently made sense to him. He took him over to some tables, where people were playing the tabletop version of the game.

"Triple Triad," Squall said, his voice more animated than usual, and it was devastatingly cute, "Started as a RPG game invented in XX71, over eighty years ago. For a while it stayed like this, but it built a huge fanbase as the space programs on this continent grew more popular, yeah? So after twenty years they made this…"

He gently drew Cloud over to a television showing a crackly black-and-white episode of a show. "Triple Triad on TV." Squall raised a finger, looking seriously into Cloud's eyes. "There are people out there who'd take advantage of you, you know. You like to learn, and that's cute, and you're hot—they'll want to tell you that the older version of the show is better than the two newer reincarnations. Don't listen to them."

Cloud could only laugh, both at the casual way Leonhart had called him hot and how _utterly geeky_ he was being. (He'd mentioned that he was into space but the more ' _popular culture_ side of things' hadn't he? Was this it?)

"To be honest," Leonhart continued, shrugging a shoulder, "Most of the stuff in this version of TT didn't even follow canon. They got the lore all wrong. They said the Guardian Forces were something like summons—but they're independent energy sources that formed at the same time these solar systems did. When a star elsewhere in the universe supernovas that massive release of energy forms a GF… and it attaches itself to a new star somewhere, and it guards the planets around it. Make sense?"

 _Fuck no_. "I think I got it," Cloud said, nodding.

"So fuck _Triple Triad: Awakening,"_ Squall said, scowling at the TV. "People just say it's the best because it was the first, and they're nostalgic shits."

Now Squall was cursing. Cloud bit his tongue to keep back any stray giggles; they didn't suit his cool image. Previously Squall had had a cool image too… but that was rapidly crumbling.

"Oh. _Oh!"_ Squall's mouth gaped a bit as they turned a corner and saw some clothes behind plexiglass. "This is the outfit the original Orlan wore! He's the orchestrator of the GFs, and the main character of the show…"

The clothes—just some typical wizard's robes—didn't look like all that much to Cloud, but Leonhart seemed enthralled. He raised a hand, as if to touch the glass, but caught himself. "After _Triple Triad: Awakening_ came _Triple Triad: Rebirth_ a decade later. With new technology they really made it look like you could explore the other systems and interact with the GFs there…"

They watched clips of the second iteration of the show, and the most recent too, which was ongoing. There were relics from all three versions of the show (Cloud had to peel Squall away from a display case with laser weapons that could apparently still fire on planets with gaseous atmospheres and crippling air pressures) and took a trivia quiz on a touch screen panel in a corner of the room.

 _What are the eight elemental attributes in Triple Triad?_

"That's easy," Squall said, his hand flying over the controls as he selected his answers, "Earth, Fire, Water, Poison, Holy, Lightning, Wind, Ice. The trick here is that they included 'Plasma' – that was from _Awakening's_ 54th episode, a filler _,_ and not technically canon. That episode was fucking awful."

Squall got the question right, of course, and all the ones that came afterward.

"Holy shit," Cloud murmured from beside him, "I didn't know you were such a massive _geek_ , Mr. Leonhart."

Squall's shoulders tightened for a moment, like he was embarrassed. Then he turned to Cloud and tilted his head, a lazy, easy smile spreading on his face.

"I didn't think you were such a massive _nerd,_ Mr. Strife."

"Touché. It's kinda hot."

"I could say the same."

They checked out the rest of the stuff, Squall excitedly jabbering away (though in the same cool, calm voice he always used, just a little… more animated than usual, and he was wholly unable to _shut up_ much like Cloud explaining his physics) and then Squall seized two empty chairs at a table where people were playing the tabletop version.

"How hungry are you?" Squall asked, looking Cloud up and down. "Would you want to try this?"

"Totally," Cloud said, grinning. "My stomach can wait."

"I'll make you a character sheet."

They sat together, Cloud's foot coyly hooked around Squall's shin, and made characters. Squall pulled up his usual character after about forty-five seconds bent over the sheet; Cloud was impressed. They spent more time on Cloud's, giving him a name (Cloud, after stressing about it for a minute just went with Fenrir, going for a humanoid version of his motorcycle) and allotting his stats to the right place.

Squall showed him how to play, explaining the difference between the Premier Guardian Force, Quezacotl, and all of the others, like Leviathan and Diablos. He showed Cloud where to place the cards and how rolls of the dice affected type matchups and attack or defense strength. They played with four other _Triple Triad_ fans of all ages; there was a young girl Denzel's age here at the museum with her Grandpa, and a couple from MU, skipping class and downtown dicking around.

"I'm probably not going to be very good at this," Cloud said, staring at the complicated game board right before his first official turn.

"Don't worry," Squall drawled, finally sounding like himself, the _real_ Squall Leonhart— "You've got me, and I'm _very_ good at this."

"There's…" Leonhart hesitated, several hours later. They had stayed playing _Triple Triad_ until the museum closed, to both of their surprise. Ravenous, he and Cloud had demolished a couple of burgers and then gotten dessert at an ice cream parlor nearby. Now it was time to say goodbye, each of them headed in different directions on different trains.

"There's a harvest party we're having," Squall said, very quickly—Cloud had a sudden feeling Squall had just decided to host said harvest party. "…I'll need parent volunteers. Would you want to come in early that morning and help out?"

"Sure," Cloud said. Halloween was this coming Friday and Harvest always a little under two weeks after that. "I'll make sure I don't work that morning."

"Alright." Leonhart nodded, tucking hair behind his ear (Cloud was starting to understand it was a shy or nervous gesture). "It'll be good to spend more time with you. I had a good time today."

"Yeah, me too." Cloud grinned; Squall flashed one back at him. The scar between his eyes crinkled interestingly when his expression was happy.

Cloud thought maybe one of them would go in for the kiss, but neither did. Leonhart strolled away on those long, long legs and Cloud watched him go. When his train arrived Cloud sat in his seat and pulled out his book, finally peering at the autograph he'd been given.

 _To Cloud—_

 _Motion sickness or no, someone named 'Cloud' is destined to look upwards. Setbacks are hard—believe me, I've had em too. You've got the smarts and the enthusiasm and I've got a good feeling about you kid. Chin up – you've got an important part of this galaxy to fill and I have a vibe you're gonna be part of the stars in some way or another._

 _See you on Bahamut!_

 _—Cid Highwind_

 _ps: NICE SHIRT!_

Hands trembling, Cloud closed his book.


	7. Chapter 7

Zack was at least three times as fast as Denzel, and that was certainly the more important thing, here… but damn, if Denzel didn't have style.

"What's that one?" Zack asked, shooting the napkin in Denzel's hands quick glances while mostly focused on his own. Right corner first, then left, circled around the neck of the wine bottle, then…

"Pig," Denzel said. "Mr. Wallace showed me how himself, 'cause the origami book didn't have pigs. He Moogled it."

"How's the pig workin' out for you?"

"…Not good," Denzel said, a bit glumly.

Zack was making decorative sleeves for the wine bottles Tifa was going to serve at the wedding she catered in two days. Denzel did one of them and then got distracted folding the fancy cloth napkins into animal shapes, which he said they could carefully place _next_ to the wine bottles they were originally for and it would be basically the same thing. Zack was too busy to worry about it right now, so he was letting Denzel do what he wanted.

The bar was due to open in forty-five minutes and the three of them (or two of them, with Denzel being Denzel) were scrambling to get as much work done as possible. Most of the next day would be spent with Tifa and her part-timers getting the last of their alcohol stash ready for the wedding, so the small things like the sleeves had to be completed today.

There were cute flags to go in the olives for martinis, and fun trays styled like stained glass to carry flutes of champagne around in, which Tifa was working on. Lots of small stuff… sheesh, Zack's job was hard sometimes, but he was suddenly glad he wasn't a bartender. (Actually, he did help out at _Seventh Heaven_ sometimes, and it was always really fun. He was a people person and could flirt up a brick wall and make it blush, so he always got lots of tips.)

When the decorative sleeves were done (and he'd put more on the naked ones Denzel had made the animals for when Denz wasn't looking) Zack carefully loaded them into the containers Tifa had set out on a wheeled cart and moved them into the back of the bar, where they would wait until Sunday morning.

There were the tell-tale signs someone had been eating some fresh bread with cheese recently, and who hadn't quite cleaned it up well enough. Cloud had been here, probably for a quick snack before he headed off to work. He was helping out late tonight, in the regional headquarters downtown sorting packages.

Zack washed Cloud's knife in the industrial-sized sink and wiped the crumbs off the counter into the trash, smiling gently to himself. Cloud always meant well, but he'd been a little messy sometimes when they were living together. Zack never really minded cleaning up those messes though.

Tifa soon finished the last tray and sighed heavily, rolling her neck.

Making a low noise of concern, Zack came up behind her and started to knead where her neck met her shoulders. "That one looks really good," he said, peeking over her shoulder at it (Tifa was shorter than Cloud, and Cloud, was, well. Shorter than him.)

"You think so?" Tifa hummed and leant back into his hands a little. The muscles beneath Zack's fingertips were so stiff—she'd been working really hard on this catering thing. Her bar didn't get asked to do this often, so she always put her whole heart into it.

Denzel had found his crayons, kept in a bin underneath the counter because he was down here so often (and they were fun to give to drunk patrons sometimes—against the back wall a few of the best—or strangest—artworks they've received were taped). He was doodling at a table on one of the cloth napkins they'd had as leftovers.

Zack's hands slid away from Tifa's shoulders when she seemed to be relaxed and he looped his arms around her ribcage, dropping his chin to the top of her head. It would have been weird with the tops of his arms resting against the underside of her breasts if it was anyone but Tifa, but they had known each other for so long it wasn't a big deal. Zack squeezed a little, hugging his friend.

"You ready for it?"

"I think so. I'm definitely ready for the check we're getting."

Zack chuckled, and pressed a kiss to her hair. "You'll kick butt."

"Yeah I will." Sunday, the day of the wedding, was going to be pretty fun for Zack too; he was bringing Denzel to Kunsel's, and then to the Zoo with Kunsel in tow. It was too bad Cloud couldn't join them, but he seemed pretty set on this museum thing. Zack had asked if he wanted to tag along with them, but Cloud had shook his head and said he'd 'made plans.' That made him hope that Cloud had found somebody to go with, and wouldn't be wandering around that place on his own… it was a sad little image, and definitely something his Cloud would do.

"Have you eaten?" Zack asked, turning his body left and right slowly to some rhythm, making Tifa dance along with him. "I can get you something real quick if you haven't."

Tifa sounded stressed. "No, I haven't. That'd be great, Zack—I have to clean this up and get ready to open the doors now."

"Gotcha." Zack let her go and moved into the back of the kitchen (greeting Ashley the part-timer hello, who had just come in the back door), calling over his shoulder, "You want a snack, Denz?"

"Yeah!"

"Yeah what?"

"Yeah, _please_!"

Zack stuck his head back into the main part of the bar and scowled menacingly at Denzel, making the boy giggle and mime throwing a crayon at him. He made the both of them a sandwich (Tifa's considerably more elaborate and hearty than Denzel's, 'cause the kid was gonna have dinner once they got back to his place—he had a date, and Denzel said he was going to make ice cream for her) and grabbed Denzel's hand after handing it to her. Another part-timer was here and they had the situation under control.

"Alright, we're gonna get goin'. Good luck on Sunday, Teef."

"Thanks." Tifa crouched to meet Denzel in a warm hug as the boy let go of Zack's hand to rush to her. Denzel loved her so fiercely and it was so obvious (and it was uncomfortable for all of them when he slipped up and called her 'Mom,' though it was something they were all open about and would then discuss as a family). Zack grinned, watching them hug.

"Have fun at the zoo," Tifa told Denzel, ruffling his hair and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Don't fall in the lion pit."

"I won't," Denzel promised, looking comically serious. "…But I might take a swim with the otters."

"Don't you dare," Zack said, "You know I can't swim. Kunsel will have to save you and we don't need him complaining about how that hat of his he never takes off got wet."

Giggling again, Denzel gave Tifa a last squeeze and disengaged.

The zoo was, as expected, a hit with Denzel. Every animal dazzled him; even the ones that were asleep in their cages and offered no entertainment whatsoever had him gasping. Zack had heard a lot of Denzel's fun facts before but Kunsel had not, so Zack's coworker was treated to an endless stream of seven-year-old ramblings about birds and mammals and reptiles and anything else Denzel could spot.

It was always nice seeing Kunsel outside of work, when their conversations didn't tend to be about business. Kunsel understood him, and Zack understood Kunsel; after Cloud, the guy was unquestionably his best friend.

Zack thought of Cloud when they stopped by the chocobo petting pen, and he hoped that Cloud was having fun in that moment at the Physical Sciences Museum. He'd stopped by the night before and they'd laid together on the couch for a long time. So long as Cloud was happy today, Zack decided, he was happy too.

* * *

On a late afternoon at the beginning of the next week, Zack was extremely _un_ happy. When Tifa asked Denzel what he was going to be for Halloween Denzel had responded in less than a blink of an eye: _Vincent Valentine._

Zack, being the craftiest out of all three of Denzel's parents, was left with the task of making his costume.

Denzy could've been what the other kids in Mr. Leonhart's class were being… werewolves, superheroes in plain colored tights and a cape, cute ghosts… but no, he had been adamant: He had to be Vincent Valentine for Halloween this year.

He'd grabbed Zack's tablet and showed him pictures of the dark-haired anti-hero for two days, crawling all over him while on the couch and quite literally pushing the tablet into Zack's face; it had only stopped when they'd gotten into a terrific tickle fight, after which Zack, the victor, had said _Fine, Denzel, You can be Vincent Valentine._

So here he was, trying to artfully tatter a red cape and gently burning the edges of it to give his son Vincent's dark, gritty feel. (Okay, truthfully… it was kinda fun. Zack enjoyed stuff like this. But damn, he hadn't realized Vincent's costume was so damn confusing until he had to actually make it.)

When the cape was more or less completed Zack took a small box of various metal buckles and things he'd made from thick cardboard the day before out to the driveway. His garage was littered with Denzel's bike, skateboard, rollerblades and the like. There were deflated soccer balls and a bent hula-hoop (Cloud was so good at it; Zack had nearly peed himself laughing as Denzel dared his Daddy to do it for five minutes straight one day, and Cloud had). Zack squeezed past their lawn mower and grabbed a couple cans of spray paint, shaking them idly as he left it and moved into the driveway. His garage, unfortunately, was not big enough to house his car in addition to all the stuff they had, but it was a nice little space. Cloud had spent many hours in there tinkering away at Fenrir, once upon a time.

He laid out an old, gross blanket he used to catch paint whenever he had to do so and put out the buckles. They were from a bunch of old belts he and Denzel had bought from the local thrift store for about a Gil each the day before. Once they were Vincent Valentine's appropriate gleaming silver he would put them back on, then try to find a way to get all of the things around his son. Belts and zippers, man…

Zack shook the can of spray paint, hearing the ball inside bounce off the inside of the can. In addition to the buckles he had to paint Vincent's 'claw' in a bright gold, and the weird, pointy things they were going to put on top of Denzel's shoes.

The smell of spray paint always made Zack a little dizzy, so the next few minutes were full of bursts of spraying, some coughing, some walking around the driveway for the paint cloud to dissipate, and then starting over again. It was getting chillier too… Zack had a plush sweater on.

The sound of his neighbor's back door opening made him glance up. Sure enough, after half a heartbeat two dogs were spilling out into the backyard, visible after a couple seconds, chasing each other and joyously inhaling the fresh air. Zack wondered if their owner might come outside.

Sometimes Angeal played catch with Buster and Shiva. Zack wasn't a creep; he didn't watch, or anything. But sometimes he'd gotten glimpses of a thin t-shirt pulling taut over this big biceps as Angeal threw a slobber-covered ball back and forth… and once or twice, on those abnormally warm days October liked to have, as summer desperately tried to assert itself a couple last times, he'd seen Angeal, shirtless, working on his garden.

Zack wasn't a weirdo, but he could certainly appreciate the things he happened to glimpse. There was a difference, y'know?

When he was done painting the stupid claw Zack looked up again, smiling widely as he realized his neighbor was on his side of the fence, but leaning against it and watching him. He raised a hand in greeting.

"Hey," Zack called, raising a can of paint in return.

After a moment Angeal unlocked the door to the fence and stepped outside, sending a quick glance behind him to make sure the dogs were alright. Buster, the big oaf, was stretched out in a warm spot of sunshine as Shiva played with one of her toys.

"What are you doing?" he asked as he got close.

"Denzel's Halloween costume," Zack said, with a shake of his head. "He had to pick the most complicated thing I've ever seen, of course."

"Of course," Angeal said, with a laugh. His laugh was deep and made his eyes curve up—he had gentle crow's feet crinkling his eyes, and they would only become more pronounced with age. Cute, so cute.

"Hey," Zack said, breaking the silence that fell over them after that, where Angeal watched Zack spray and cough. "Is that another plant shirt I see under there?"

Angeal was wearing a cardigan, a rather nice cashmere-looking one with big buttons. In the V of it though, Zack could see some lettering.

Angeal blushed—he blushed so easily. "It's a really awful one," he said, turning away as if shy.

"Aw, c'mon," Zack said, grinning now, and standing. "You know your shirts make my day every time I see them."

Angeal did know that, because Zack always made a point of complimenting them every time he saw them. Zack had been over Angeal's house three times now, twice more after that first sleepover with Denzel, just to hang out… and Angeal had even come over once, when Denzel wasn't home. Angeal had made dinner in his kitchen and they'd talked over beers until late in the night, conversation flowing as easily as it had that first time. (It was kind of amazing; Zack wasn't so sure he'd ever been able to talk this freely with anybody).

With a disgruntled sigh Angeal unbuttoned his cardigan and pulled it apart. LETTUCE TURNIP, the shirt said, with cartoon drawings of a head of lettuce and a turnip… holding tiny bottles of fizzy alcohol.

Zack groaned. "Okay, man, that's just bad."

Angeal laughed and quickly buttoned it back up. "I tried to warn you."

"Who buys them for you, anyway?"

"Everybody," Angeal said, shrugging. "I had one or two on my own, and then it became a _thing_. My," he paused for just a moment, "Ex bought a bunch, and Genesis and my other friends always get them for me on holidays or my birthday. I'm stuck with them."

"Y'know," Zack said, with a flirty grin he couldn't keep back, "Before I met you I wouldn't have thought anybody could rock all these horrible shirts. But hey—it ain't half bad to be proved wrong."

Zack then crouched, mostly to hide his furiously blushing face; he was flirting with the guy! _It just slipped out_ , he apologized, praying to whoever was listening. Thankfully though, in his experience straight guys rarely noticed when they were being flirted with by other dudes.

Angeal did not seem to. "Genesis says sometimes they wear me, and not the other way around, so I don't know how true that statement is." He paused for a moment, watching as Zack fiddled with the parts to Vincent's costume in an effort to distract his hands, "Zack. I'm having a housewarming party on Halloween. You're more than welcome to come if you're available that evening."

Zack swallowed and looked up cautiously. "Oh yeah?" he asked. "That would be awesome."

Angeal grinned. The man tended to unconsciously frown most of the time, and smiles looked handsome on him. "You'll come?"

"I can totally make it," Zack said, nodding even as he shook his gold spray paint again. He hadn't been to a party in years… it would be fun.

Angeal looked incredibly pleased. He left to go back to his house a few minutes later, making Zack think his party invitation was the whole reason he'd come over to start with. Maybe Angeal had been trying to catch him the last few days to invite him, and upon seeing Zack in the driveway, had come outside. The thought left a warm feeling in his belly, true or not.

That feeling dissipated a couple hours later though, as Zack sewed belts onto Denzel's costume at his kitchen table. He had his music playing from a wireless speaker over by the blender, and he was comfortable and still enjoying himself making the costume… but it had set in that he'd told Angeal that _yes_ , he could make it.

He had Halloween plans, though. Well, unofficial ones, technically. Every Halloween he, Denzel and Cloud walked around one of the neighborhoods in the same Sector as _Seventh Heaven_. Tifa always had a huge bar crowd, Halloween being one of the most popular nights to go out and drink, so the rest of the family had always made themselves scarce and taken Denzel out. There were a couple long streets packed with row homes and the kinds of residents who gave out candy.

It was always darn fun. Zack liked admiring the houses for the spookiest decorations; he liked holding Cloud's hand as they walked (or he had, before the divorce) and most of all he liked snagging candy out of Denzel's pillow case that he brought along.

Well… Cloud would understand. Zack really had not been to a party in years; he deserved to go to one, didn't he? Cloud was on this 'be a better dad' kick anyways—in fact, he'd probably be _thankful_ that Zack wanted to dip out of their Halloween plans this year, and he could take Denzel out by himself. Right?

Zack wasn't so sure, and a knot of anxiety settled in his stomach.

Cloud came over on Thursday, the day before Halloween, giving Zack the opportunity to talk about it. He couldn't do it right away though as the words grew sticky and lodged in his throat.

Angeal had given him another recipe the day before. He was looking out for ones he thought were easy enough for Zack to attempt and that he and Denzel would both enjoy. What a sweet guy—Zack appreciated it. He made the dish, pan-seared wide rice noodles with chopped chicken, eggs, and the few vegetables Denzel would eat, as Cloud and Denzel worked on Denzel's homework at the kitchen table.

All three of them were in the same room, and things were calm and domestic… just like the old days.

"How would you define a community, Papa?" Denzel asked.

It took Zack a few seconds to register it—he'd gotten hyperfocused on the dinner. "Uh, what was that, Denzy?" he asked, dropping the spoon and looking over his shoulder.

"How would you define a community?"

"Hmm… a bunch of people with something in common, who look out for each other, maybe? That something in common doesn't have to be location."

"This neighborhood is a community," Denzel said, a bit uncertainly.

"Yeah, it is. But sometimes people talk about other kinds of communities, like…" Zack's eyes shifted to Cloud, sitting at the table next to his son. He had the new issue of _Popular Science_ in front of him but was watching the other two with his chin propped up on the table with his arm, a gentle smile on his face. "Like the queer community—which your Daddy and I are a part of."

Denzel knew all about people with unique and various sexual or gender identities. He nodded seriously. "Or the Black community. Or a community of Vincent Valentine fans."

Denzel sat up straighter. "That's me!"

"That's you, dude."

Denzel started writing on his paper. His handwriting was still atrocious, moreso than some other kids in his class, but they were working on it. "I like that definition a lot. It makes you feel like you have lots of friends even if you haven't met them."

Zack sneakily winked at Cloud, utterly charmed. "Guess it does, Denz. I like that too."

He turned back to dinner, turning over that soft smile of Cloud's in his mind. Cloud had been very smiley lately. Talk of communities and Community Helpers washed over him as he finished up dinner, following Angeal's handwritten instructions perfectly. He scraped the dish into three plates and got some fruit from the fridge (they were trying to include all their food groups with every meal, so that Denzel would get used to it and start doing it on his own when he got snacks and went out to eat and the like).

Denzel finished up his last sentence and Cloud glanced it over. "Good job," he said, and kissed Denzel's temple before putting away Denzel's supplies into his backpack. "Mr. Leonhart will be impressed, I'm sure."

"You think?"

Cloud smiled again, and his happiness was so obvious. "Positive. Trust me—I know he comes off a little hard, but he's squishy underneath."

"Squishy?" Denzel laughed.

Cloud confirmed, "Squishy." Then, "Oh—this is really good, Zack!"

With a broad grin, Zack thanked him. He tried it for himself; oh, it _was_ good. This family liked their food a little spicier than Angeal did (Angeal had mentioned something about how his taste buds had curiously changed after going on a new medication, which Zack could understand) and he'd added chilis and lots of red pepper flakes into the pan as everything cooked. "You guys gonna need any milk or juice to cool your mouth down or anything?"

"No," Denzel said, though he looked a little sweaty, "It's perfect."

After the edge had been taken off his hunger and Zack felt like talking, he asked Cloud, "So how was your trip to the museum last weekend?"

Cloud's fork paused, tapping against that pretty bottom lip a few times before the blond responded. "It was really great," he said.

"Yeah? You end up going with anybody?"

Cloud did not answer right away. He really seemed to love the food; he shoveled in three large mouthfuls, chewing for long periods of time, before he answered. "No," he said eventually, after a big drink of water, "Went by myself."

Denzel gazed up at his dad with too-big eyes and asked with the gentle voice of a child who tended to jump to the worst conclusions with ease, "Were you lonely?"

Cloud eyed him, and had to laugh. "No, Denz," he said, and ruffled his son's hair. "I wasn't lonely. I had a good time. I listened to Cid Highwind and got his autograph, even. We actually talked for a few minutes—how cool is that?" Cloud waggled his eyebrows at Denzel, trying to make the boy grin. "I chatted with an _astronaut."_

"About what?" Zack asked.

"Welllll," Cloud drawled, "He told me about this time on the space station, when the toilet broke, and they had to wait for a rocket launch with the parts to service it, so they were using these bags that have adhesive so it more or less glues to your butt and—"

"Stop!" Denzel shrieked, giggling wildly now, his momentary angst at his Daddy all alone in that big museum forgotten. "We're _eating._ "

Zack laughed too. Denzel managed to sound like such an uppity person as he said it, like he should have been seated at a table with people in tuxes and a butler hanging onto his every word.

Cloud stuck out his tongue. "I'm joking. We talked about Bahamut and stuff though. …Hey. Denzel, have you heard of _Triple Triad?_ "

Zack felt like Cloud had changed the subject a little too quickly and obviously, but, hey, if he had been the one who have a (slightly pathetic) day alone at the museum he wouldn't have wanted to harp on it either. He wished it had been on a different day from their zoo plans. He and Cloud always had a lot of fun together at those kinds of places, even if Cloud wanted to spend more time in the exhibits than Zack always wanted. Cloud explained stuff to him and Zack would be smitten.

Cloud said the zoo sounded like a lot of fun, and that he would tag along the next time they went. Zack hoped he would.

Just as Cloud collected the dishes and started washing them off in the sink Denzel roared, "Shiva and Buster are outside!" and dashed for the front door.

Zack resisted the urge to groan. Denzel was already turning the doorknob, looking back at him desperately— _CanIPleaseGoOutsidePapa—_ and Zack nodded, head hanging on his neck in exhaustion.

Denzel ran outside, his tiny booted footsteps thundering as he careened around the side of the house and to the backyard. Through the window in the living room Zack could see Angeal outside now, in a light jacket. Zack grabbed Denzel's, as the kid had been too excited to realize he'd be chilly within five minutes, and as he folded it over one arm he heard Cloud shut off the water in the kitchen. _Dammit._

Well. It had to happen eventually.

Angeal had unlocked his gate and let Denzel into his backyard. He knew Zack trusted him now, and that Zack knew Denzel would be safe in his presence. Zack didn't mind a bit when Angeal did this.

"Hey," Zack called as he came out his front door.

"Wait up a sec, Zack," came from inside the house, and Zack waited, his smile faltering slightly. Cloud caught up to him, one of Zack's sweaters that had been draped over the back of the couch in the living room now over his shoulders. Together they moved around the house and towards the fence.

Angeal grinned when he spotted Zack. Denzel was on his knees in the grass with his face buried in Buster's neck, and Angeal was playing tug-of-war with Shiva nearby. The dog growled loudly, her paws scrabbling in the dirt as Angeal pulled. The puppy was big, but she didn't stand a chance against those muscled arms, Zack thought.

His neighbor's expression grew curious as he spotted Cloud just behind Zack. Angeal complimented Zack on the sweater Cloud was wearing the week before; for him to be wearing it, Cloud had to have been one of Zack's dates that Zack sometimes told Angeal stories about, or…

Well. The resemblance between Cloud and Denzel was uncanny anyway, and Zack had no intention of keeping it a secret.

"Hey Angeal," Zack greeted. Angeal let Shiva win this round, letting go of the small, knotted rope in his hands and coming to the fence gate, which he unlocked once more.

"This is Angeal Hewley," Zack introduced, putting a hand on Cloud's back and guiding him forward a bit. "And Angeal, this is Cloud Strife, Denzel's Dad."

Angeal's handsome face grew a grin again, and it was genuine. He was such a nice guy. He shook Cloud's offered hand. "It's great to finally meet you. I've heard a lot."

"Same," Cloud said. He had never been a people person; Zack had seen him at work. He scowled at customers more than he smiled. To Zack's trained eye Cloud was a little subdued, but Angeal had charm in spades (haha, spades, like for his garden) and Cloud smiled at him. "Denzel and Zack talk about you and your dogs more than anything else these days, it seems like."

Angeal rubbed the back of his neck a little bashfully, with the most adorable expression on his face. Zack, because he _knew_ Cloud, knew that Cloud had zeroed in on one of the very first things Zack had noticed after meeting Angeal—that he was _damn hot_. He had his hair in a stubby ponytail again and the loose locks in front framed his cheekbones and drew attention to his strong jaw.

And the trouble was… Angeal was looking into Cloud's eyes for a moment too long—

—Because Cloud was beautiful, really. Regardless of the sexuality of the observer, Cloud was, in terms of simple aesthetics, gorgeous. He had those big blue eyes that drew people in, and that cute hair… a hot body (that Zack had explored every inch of over the years, naturally), and this atmosphere that just sort of… put you at ease. Cloud was just this _nerd_ , the kind it was impossible to not be enraptured with—Cloud could teach a rock about outer space and it would be entranced. He could be an asshole to you and you'd still find something about him to like; he was just that compelling.

Zack was pretty sure Angeal was straight, but even if not—the guy _evidently_ could appreciate aesthetic beauty as much as everyone else could. Cloud let go of Angeal's hand and the two of them struck up a small conversation. Zack listened idly as he eyed Denzel, now throwing Shiva's ball around. The puppy kicked up a pile of dirt every time she ran away, looking more like a bunny frantically darting through the backyard for its life than a dog.

"I've pet Shiva and Buster through the fence a couple times with Denzel," Cloud said, laughing as Denzel had to pry the spit-covered ball out of Shiva's mouth, then threw it again even as he cringed, "They're cute dogs."

"Feel free to pet them as much as you want. Gaia knows they love it."

Cloud glanced at Zack momentarily before walking over to Buster, who was lounging. The dog looked overjoyed to have Cloud rubbing his massive belly.

"Zack," Angeal said, snapping Zack out of his heavy thoughts. The man was smiling at him. Zack found himself smiling back before he could think about it. "How are you?"

"Good, I'm good," he said. "You?"

"Decent," Angeal said, shrugging. He moved in and spoke closer to Zack's ear, those blue eyes full of concern, "You can bring Cloud to the party tomorrow night if you want."

"Oh," Zack said, his voice sounding strangely far away… as if he wasn't the one speaking. "I'll ask him. I—I think he's busy, but thank you. I'll ask."

"Okay." Angeal nodded approvingly.

Zack was embarrassed.

He turned those ten minutes over in his head for the rest of the evening and let those negative feelings fuel him into action late that night, as Cloud was getting ready to go home to Tifa. He drew Cloud to his side, after the man tugged on his shoes, and rubbed apologetically at his shoulder as he said, "Hey. I got some bad news… I got plans for tomorrow night."

Cloud rotated in Zack's grip so he could look at him. Those eyes Zack loved were full of confusion… like he just didn't understand. "But… we were going to take Denzel trick-or-treating?"

It came out like a question, and Cloud's face scrunched up in thought now as he studied Zack. That knot in Zack's stomach from before grew even more poisonous.

"I mean," Zack said, shrugging lightly, "I figured you were gonna take him, but we never officially decided that's what we were gonna do."

It was a _shitty_ thing to say. _Just because you never specifically said 'the two of us are taking Denzel out on Halloween' I have a loophole to get out of it if I need to, Cloud, ha ha ha ha._ Zack knew it was shitty. He tried not to grimace. "I got invited to this party, and I haven't been to one in… a long time, y'know, and…"

 _Not since you and I got divorced._

Both of Zack's statements were supposed to make Cloud feel guilty, and as expected, they worked. "Oh," the blond man said, stiffening slightly. "…Alright."

"Thanks." Zack bent to kiss Cloud's temple, even though he could tell it was unwelcome at that very moment. "I'm sorry—I wasn't sure how to tell you about it. How's this—I'll come along for the first hour or so; the party doesn't start until eight."

"Alright," Cloud said again. He was speaking with one-word answers. That was a bad sign.

Zack pretended he couldn't tell, and saw Cloud out to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, Spike. And thanks."

"Yeah," Cloud said, and raised a hand goodbye. Rather than watch Cloud leave like he normally would have Zack shut the door and leant back against it, staring at the dim entranceway to his house with his heart thudding in his chest as he waited. As Fenrir's engine came to life he became acutely aware of the mailbox still propped up in the nearby hall closet. When Cloud was gone he double-checked the doorknob on the closet to make sure it was firmly shut. Wouldn't want any monsters crawling out of this closet during the night.

* * *

Earlier that week, when Zack asked Denzel and Cloud what he should be for Halloween, Denzel answered "Cowboy" at the same time Cloud, with a too-serious expression answered, "Cat boy."

"Aha!" Zack had said, raising one finger and winking at them both. He put a hand on his hip, cocking it out with a goofy smile on his face. "You two drive a hard bargain but… the only possible answer… is to be a Catboy-Cowboy!"

Zack felt rather foolish now with his ten-gallon hat, clumsily made spurs tacked onto his boots, vest with a cow-print shirt on underneath… and his tail. He'd glued felt cat ears onto the cowboy hat, and the _sexy kitten_ costume he'd bought along with the cowboy one at the store had come with paws… he felt weird. It was really, really hard to open Denzel's candy with cat paws on his hands, he'd found. He managed to figure out a more or less comfortable way to carry Denzel's candy pillowcase when Denzel didn't feel like carrying it though (and he had a feeling Cloud was making him carry it because he was angry with him).

Denzel looked adorable in his Vincent Valentine costume, of course. Zack had put a lot of work into it and the kid screamed his head off in delight when Zack had shown up at _Seventh Heaven_ with it after school. Tifa was impressed and said it was much nicer than the one she'd be serving the Halloween party crowd with that evening (she was dressed as some character from one of her graphic novels that probably only one customer the entire night would recognize).

Even Cloud, though he was clearly grumpy, said he did a wonderful job with it.

Denzel was complimented on it left and right, from well-meaning adults who thought he was just darling and then other children on the sidewalk, stopping and pointing and saying _woah, it's Vincent Valentine!_

Zack thought Denzel's ego had shown whenever anyone saw him ride on his Daddy's motorcycle; this was three times as bad. He tried to say a little something about the value of humility but Denzel had shrugged him off, handing him a chewy caramel—Zack's favorite—before scurrying up the steps to a new house.

Cloud snorted. "Kid's smart."

"He is," Zack answered, successfully pacified.

Their family as a whole had gotten a bunch of coos and approving looks. Both of Denzel's dads were in costume and they rocked them well. Some folks remembered Cloud from the year before, mostly because Cloud wore the same costume every single year since he'd bought it when Denzel was two. It was a bright orange jumpsuit, the kind worn by astronauts in training, emblazoned with Gaian Aeronautics and Space Assembly logos and all kinds of ports and straps. Cloud bought it in a museum gift shop in Junon.

Zack was cold in his sleeveless shirt and vest; he had goosebumps. Cloud looked toasty warm though. Zack wanted to press close to him and absorb some of that warmth, but considering he was ditching trick-or-treating early this year... he decided against it.

The houses that went all-out with their decorations were their favorites. The three boys _oohed_ and _aahed_ over fog machines, skeletons, and gravestones with pun names on them ( _HERE LIES MYRA MAINS_ and _I. M. KNOTWELL_ , for example). They'd gone to a residential area, and although most of the homes here had stoops there were one or two with small porches. On one of these someone had dressed up as a scarecrow, and stayed perfectly still… then jumped out at them as Denzel reached into the candy bowl perched nearby with a piece of paper reading _Take Just One, Please_ on it.

Zack shrieked and jumped so bad his cat-cowboy hat fell to the ground. Cloud nearly fell to the ground as well just after… but that was because he was laughing so hard at Zack.

"Papa!" Denzel said, beaming at them beneath his black wig and all the red bandages on his forehead, "You _actually_ got _scared_ by that?"

"Hey!" Zack protested. He was mortified but laughing about it too, and gave the cackling teenage boy dressed up in the scarecrow outfit a fist-bump (who had probably been told to do this by his parents).

His utter embarrassment and the loss of his _cool image_ in the eyes of his son did serve a good purpose, however. Cloud did not seem as angry at him afterward… he still frowned when Zack gently excused himself but he no longer glared. Zack kissed Denzel's nose goodbye and made him promise to get more of Zack's favorites from the other folks nearby.

"Have fun, Papa," Denzel said, smiling in that accepting way kids did, and Zack's palms grew sweaty.

He forced back the wince that almost came out and gave his son a goofy smile. "Thanks, buddy. I will. You too, okay? Don't let this old man take you home too early."

He pulled Cloud in for a stiff, uncomfortable hug and made himself leave. Denzel and Cloud went left once they were back on the sidewalk and Zack went right. He felt Cloud's eyes on the back of his neck as he went back the way they came.

After a quick drive home in his own car and a dash inside to take his last pill of the day and grab the fancy wine and cheese/charcuterie board he'd purchased he was back outside and standing nervously on the front steps of Angeal's house. There was no candy out here, unlike at Zack's, where he'd left out a big bowl and a note to take some and to _have a great Halloween!_ Angeal put up some fake cobwebs of his own, and bats and the like hung from the ceiling of his front porch. There were carved pumpkins, too. Angeal seemed like the guy to enjoy carving pumpkins. He could hear voices and music from inside.

Zack shifted on his feet, acutely aware of his silly cat-cowboy costume again… Gaia, why had he thought this was a good idea?

He sucked it up and rang the doorbell.

He heard footsteps after a moment and straightened his spine. The door soon opened.

Zack plastered on a goofy grin. " _Trick or…"_ he trailed off, peering over fancy cheeses and meats at someone he was surprised—and not at all thrilled—to be running into, even if he should have anticipated this, really.

Angeal's best friend Genesis had a bowl of candy in his hands. His lip was curling as he eyed Zack over it.

" _Oh,_ " they both said at the same time.

Genesis made no move to invite Zack inside, still eyeing him like Denzel would a particularly disgusting bit of candy spotted in his pillow case, like the ones with the shredded coconut. Zack awkwardly shifted his plate to one arm and held out his hand for a shake. "Happy Halloween," he said politely.

Genesis still had the bowl of candy in his hands, though, and quite obviously couldn't shake. Zack waited—with increasing embarrassment—as Genesis moved the bowl to his arm as well and grasped his hand.

After an excruciatingly uncomfortable handshake, they let go. All the other times Zack had seen him Genesis was impeccably dressed, and now was no exception. He looked rather dapper in a grand, Victorian outfit… with a red velvet vest and a poofy white cravat by his neck.

"What the hell are you supposed to be?" Genesis asked, rather rudely.

 _Ah_ —the man had fangs in his mouth. Vampire, then.

Zack blushed despite himself and started to explain, but mercifully, a hand pushed the screen door open a little wider and another person joined them on the porch.

"Zack," Angeal greeted, with a warm smile. He gave Genesis a gentle shove, and the redhead went back inside with a roll of his eyes. "Thanks for coming."

"Thanks for inviting me!" Zack said brightly, eyeing his neighbor from head to toe. "You look great, man!"

'Great' was perhaps not the best word to describe a jester, but Angeal's costume was certainly festive. Angeal shook his head, a playful grin on his face—the small bells on the ends of his rather goofy-looking hat jingled. He even had shoes that curled up in front.

Zack drooped slightly. "No plant puns on the costume anywhere, are there?"

Angeal opened the door a little wider and stepped back to let Zack inside. "Unfortunately not."

"Damn," Zack said, taking in Angeal's transformed house, "Someone needs to get a marker before the night's through."

While the outside of Angeal's house was sparsely decorated, he'd gone all out for the inside. The usual lights were all off, and instead the house was bathed in various spooky colors—reds, blues and greens, from strategically-placed lights. A couple of them, placed in Angeal's potted plants, cast creepy shadows on the ceilings from grossly exaggerated stems and leaves. A giant, fuzzy spider dropped down on the top of Zack's hat when he walked underneath it, making him jump.

Angeal chuckled, his voice low and rumbly in his broad chest. "That happened to me more than a couple times already, too."

The sounds of quite a few people talking drifted in from the living room and kitchen. Zack slowly realized that it was just him and Angeal out here in the doorway. Zack was a people person, absolutely; he thrived in these kinds of atmospheres. Although he hadn't been to a party without Cloud for years he knew already he was going to have a great time.

But it was just the two of them out here, Zack and the man he wanted to see most in this house, so he stopped the path his curious feet were making towards the rest of the party, and turned around. Angeal looked so damn good in this low, supernatural lighting. A splash of green on his face softened that unconscious frown he usually wore. Red, from a light at the bottom of the stairs, drew Zack's attention down Angeal's chest, through the blocky colors of the jester's uniform, and to his waist.

It looked a little tight in a couple places, but most costumes were, or were too baggy. Genesis's looked hand-tailored but most folks just bought a 'one size fits all' from the store. Angeal took a step towards him, and blue light from the end of the hall accentuated Angeal's long, muscular legs, clad in tight fabric. That nylon over the groin stretched taut as his leg extended. Zack watched with rapt attention as the head of Angeal's cock pushed against the back of the fabric. Angeal's hip cocked slightly and distended the costume further, making an inch or two of the shaft visible now, highlighted wonderfully by the shadows cast from the light.

"Did Denzel like his costume?" Angeal asked.

Zack's eyes snapped back up to lock with his neighbor's. It wasn't the food on the plate in his hands, but his mouth was fucking watering.

Zack rasped, "Yeah. He's cute as hell. I'll show you a picture later."

"Please do."

The two of them lingered in the doorway for a few moments more, trading a few short sentences where neither of them really paid any attention to what was coming out of their mouths or what the other was saying; it was just an excuse to spend more time together. ( _How was your day? Good, thanks. Yours? Yeah, good. You get that thing done? Yeah, it went well. Great, glad to hear it.)_

But there was a whole party to get to, and Zack and Angeal could not hide out here together the whole evening. Angeal moved past Zack, placing a hand on his arm as he squeezed by. A shudder worked its way through Zack's muscles despite the attempt to suppress it.

Angeal entered the living room first, Zack close behind. Although the room was physically speaking the same as Zack's, the furniture inside was arranged quite differently. While Zack's TV rested against one wall Angeal's was the adjacent one, with the couch facing it. Angeal brought out a large, folding table to replace his smaller coffee table (which was now pressed against a far wall with drink supplies on it). Several chairs were gathered around this table, which people sat on. The couch had people on it too, and a few folks mingled while standing here and there.

Maybe half of them looked up as the two men entered, some flashing polite smiles. Zack plastered on a friendly one of his own, making eye contact with everyone in return. Angeal, the kind, gracious host that he was, took the time to walk Zack around and introduce him to everyone.

"This is Lazard, the head of my department," Angeal said, smiling in approval as Zack shook the hand of a blond man in glasses. His black pinstripes and spooky make-up made him look like a character in one of the shows Zack had watched with his parents as a kid. Maybe that's what he was going for.

If it was Zack throwing the party he sure as hell wouldn't have invited his boss—but they were adults, and this didn't look like the kind of party where unsightly or embarrassing things would happen. And hey, maybe things worked differently within the National Gaian Society. Those nature types… anything could happen.

Over the years Zack had gotten really good at remembering names and faces due to hiring and interviewing so many folks. He didn't put in a lot of effort right now though. Genesis came in to whisk his cheese tray and wine away and now he was shaking hands with everybody, smiling politely as Angeal told him about them. He appreciated it, sure—it always sucked to feel like an outsider at a party, and Angeal doing this was very kind of him.

But he met Reno, a photographer. Rude, soil specialist. Kaya, a friend. Elena, a friend from an expedition to Junon. Luxiere, another botanist. Dorin and Renn, a married couple also from NGS. and Phuong, a friend from doctoral school. Zack just smiled and nodded, acting like he remembered all of them. Please.

When he'd met everyone in the living room Angeal brought him to the kitchen, where two people were greedily devouring the charcuterie board Zack had bought, the drunchies evidently underway... Angeal's friend Genesis and a tall man with hair as long as Denzel. They looked up guiltily as the two of them entered. Genesis was in the middle of spreading some brie onto a cracker from a pretty tray on one of the counters.

Zack said, unable to keep back the grin, "Guess it's good?"

"Evidently," Angeal answered, because the two men hiding in the kitchen and eating everyone's food had to chew before they could respond. "This is Zack."

"Hey." Zack smiled at the silver-haired guy. He seemed just as frowny as Genesis, but it wasn't quite so... hostile as Genesis's always seemed to be.

Angeal's presence was big and comforting beside him. "You already know Genesis."

Genesis inclined his head towards his companion. "This is my husband, Sephiroth."

Zack and Sephiroth shook (Zack hiding his surprise) - rather than Sephiroth saying something normal, like _nice to meet you_ he sighed, with the most serious expression on his face, "I apologize for Genesis backing into your mailbox."

"Oh, Goddess." Genesis rolled his eyes so hard Zack expected to see scorch marks on the ceiling. He shoved the brie-slathered cracker into his mouth and chewed loudly and without grace, staring flatly at Sephiroth.

Zack felt so fucking awkward. "Er, it's okay," he said, rubbing the back of his neck which suddenly burned.

"If you say so." Sephiroth eyed him for a moment with an unsettling stare (something was off with his eyes, though Zack couldn't figure out exactly what). He eyed Angeal, and then Genesis. "Genesis has always had bad luck with backing into things."

The two men stared into each other's eyes for a moment, then burst into chuckles. Genesis sprayed crumbs on Sephiroth's costume; he seemed to be a pirate. It was not nearly as expertly tailored as Genesis's, but he was shirtless except for a thin vest... and Zack could get behind that. Arrr, matey.

 _Ugh_ , married couples though... always laughing into each other's faces at inside jokes nobody else understood. Gross. (Though, he and Cloud used to do that... and probably still did.) Zack glanced at Angeal, who watched the couple with a gentle smile on his face.

"Good wine selection," Genesis said. He was smiling now. Zack thanked him. "Your neighbor has taste, Angeal."

 _Angeal's welcome to find out himself_ , Zack thought, and banished the thought. He asked, "How do you two know each other?" Angeal had mentioned Genesis was a longtime friend once before.

Genesis looked happy to answer. "Angeal and I grew up next door to each other, in a small town named Banora." Zack knew this much already but nodded seriously, like the information was new. "I was thirteen months when Angeal was born, and I must say, that first year of my life without him was surely the most miserable one I've had."

"Aww," Angeal drawled, reaching out and clapping Genesis on his shoulder. "That's sweet."

"We've been inseparable since," Genesis said as he covered Angeal's hand with his. The smile he sent Zack's way was rather sly… Zack couldn't figure out what it meant. Sephiroth wound his arm around Genesis's waist and gently tugged him away from Angeal and back against his chest. Genesis went easily and leant his head against Sephiroth's as he surveyed the other two.

"Seriously, though," he said. "What is your costume?"

"It's…" Angeal and Sephiroth were studying him now too, and Zack found himself blushing. "I'm a cat-cowboy. Or a cow-catboy. My son said 'cowboy' and his dad said 'cat boy' and… this happened." Zack pulled the rumpled cat paws out of his pocket and slid one on. The horrible, velvety purple shone eerily in the multicolored lights and the low ones over the oven. He wiggled his fingers at the three men and said, "Meow. Giddy up, pardner."

Angeal's usual frown gave way to a grin, and Sephiroth laughed. It was a low, rumbly thing.

"Alright," Zack said, a couple minutes later, after more chitchat. "Time to get drunk."

"I hear you," Genesis muttered. He faced the counter now and worked Zack's wine bottle open. Sephiroth had a beer and sipped at it calmly as he eyed Angeal and Zack.

Zack thwapped Angeal's hip with the back of his hand—er, paw—and the two of them left the couple to hide out in the kitchen by themselves for the time being. "Sephiroth seems cool," Zack said.

"He is. He works with me at NGS. I introduced the two of them."

"Aw, you a matchmaker?"

"I suppose. Though it was a bit selfish, at the time." At Zack's curious look Angeal smiled, tucking it briefly into his shoulder before relaxing and looking down at the snack and drink table, which they reached. "Genesis and I dated for quite a few years, and after we broke up we became sort of… fixated on each other. I needed him to have someone else to focus on, so I pointed him Sephiroth's way. I didn't think much would come of it, but here they are."

Zack's stomach flipped, and suddenly felt as fizzy and excited as the pop rock candy Denzel and Tifa liked to eat. With clammy hands, he grabbed a cup for Angeal to fill with punch.

Was this knowledge given because he'd sort of asked, with that look? Or was Angeal dropping this knowledge because he wanted Zack to know… as in an _I date men too_ kind of way, _wink wink wink?_

Just because a dude dated other dudes sometimes didn't mean he'd be into _Zack,_ though. The guy was still healing from his breakup with his Ex, too… the two of them clicked well and their friendship was blossoming well but it didn't mean anything, and certainly not—

Despite Zack's inner mental turmoil he was cool and collected on the outside. He acted like the information wasn't a big deal (which it wasn't, really). "Funny how it works out like that sometimes, yeah?" he said, nodding his head in thanks as Angeal filled his cup. The punch came from a giant bowl with blobs of sherbet floating in it, as well as copious amounts of spooky fog. It was so fucking cool; it made sense scientists could do something neat like that. "Does Genesis work at NGS too, then?"

"No, but Sephiroth does. Genesis manages a theater troupe downtown for teens."

"Oh, that's cool." Zack had been right about the theater thing where Genesis was concerned, then, _victory_. "Is he like, in charge of their productions and stuff?"

"Mmhmm. There are a few groups he's in charge of… two weeks ago the class from one of the juvenile detention centers in Sector 8 had their big show. It was great."

"Wow," Zack said, glancing in the direction of the kitchen with newfound respect for Genesis, "That's really awesome."

"It is." The two men sipped at the punch, eyeing each other quietly over the rims of the cups. The fog rolling off the top of Angeal's cup obscured his face, a bit; the jester's hat suddenly looked menacing in the low, colorful lighting. Someone took a picture on their phone nearby, and the flash glinted eerily off one of the silver baubles on the hat. Then Angeal lowered his cup and the fog dissipated, revealing that kind, indulgent smile again. "Do you like the punch?"

It was sweet and a bit sour—and clearly laden with booze. It was good stuff though, not the cheap stuff that Tifa kept on the bottom shelf at the bar and silently judged a customer for every time they ordered it. Zack took another sip, playing around with some of the sherbet in his mouth, and nodded. "It's really good. How'd you get the fog? That's cool as hell."

"Secret," Angeal said, and winked at him— _winked_.

Zack's stomach felt even fizzier.

There was candy and chips and a platter of half-wraps, and other snacks besides. Zack and Angeal filled up plates and joined the rest of the party. Despite Zack telling himself he'd be outgoing and meet new people on his own he found himself sticking close to Angeal. He was the only person he was familiar with (unless Genesis counted, which Zack kind of hoped it didn't), and even more than that, Zack just felt at ease with Angeal at his side… he was so calm and kind to everybody, and always really seemed to listen to what he was being told. It was hard not to want to be next to all that goodness.

(Angeal certainly was more 'good' than Zack… he wasn't the type of guy to ditch his son and his son's father in a yearly tradition because he had a pointless crush on some guy and furthermore felt constricted and stifled with those kinds of situations these days and just… _didn't want to do it this year_. He shoved that down; now was not the time for guilt. He'd apologize to Cloud and Denzel later.)

The party was fun. Whoever managed the music was doing a great job—looked like that guy Rude, with the werewolf mask he was managing to eat through without taking it off (and that thing must have been full of chip grease and crumbs on the inside, ew). Zack had three cups of punch with a little extra poured in, thanks to Renn, he was pretty sure her name was; they kept bumping into each other at the snack table and talking for a minute or two before Zack would head back to Angeal.

He ate wraps until his stomach hurt a little bit and then marched himself into the kitchen to get some of the cheese he'd bought before it was all gone. Genesis and Sephiroth were in the main room, now, but they'd taken nearly all of it with them, inside their stomachs. Rude. Zack ate the rest but saved a little bit for Angeal, who, having saved Zack a seat on the couch ( _nice_ ), playfully jostled Zack's cowboy hat before saying _thanks_ and plucking it off Zack's plate.

"You did a really nice job," Zack said. Zack was not a light man but Angeal was even heavier than him, and the couch cushion dipped towards him a bit. Simple gravity ( _nine point eight meters per second squared towards the center of Gaia_ ) had them thus scooped up together a little bit. The length of Zack's thigh pressed against Angeal's, and their elbows too. It reminded Zack of the time they'd fallen asleep on this couch together during that first sleepover, with Denzel snoozing peacefully upstairs.

"Thanks. Aerith and I used to throw big parties… most of the decorations are things we had from back then. But some of it is new. This house is a lot bigger than my old apartment."

Zack said nervously, "Yeah. You got a big canvas to work with now."

He felt bad, but Angeal did not seem too upset at the mention of his Ex. Soon Angeal had to go to the kitchen to refill snacks (he was doting over everybody and making sure things were perfect), and Zack sat awkwardly by himself on the couch for a few moments, looking left and right for a clue as to what to do.

Genesis was helping Angeal in the other room but Sephiroth was alone against the wall leading to the front door. He seemed like a quiet guy. Zack had seen him talking with Renn and Dorin for a little while, and Lazard once or twice (who was very drunk and talking to the red-haired guy, Reno?, about illegal whale poaching). Zack got up, his sherbet ball sloshing dangerously close to the edge of his cup, and joined him.

Sephiroth smiled a bit awkwardly at Zack's approach. "Hey," Zack said easily. "How you holdin' up, man?"

"Fine," Sephiroth said. It wasn't a mean or dismissive response, just… short. Zack's other questions got similar answers, blunt and to the point, but not unkind. Rather than putting Zack off it made his grin grow wider. Sephiroth was a reserved guy, and the way he spoke and some of his gestures were reminding him of Cloud. It tickled him.

He'd always enjoyed making people like Cloud (and _especially_ Cloud himself) crack a smile or let go of that protective shell. And sure enough, with enough time spent with just the two of them, with Zack leaning casually against the wall Sephiroth was next to, and standing in a way that blocked Sephiroth's view of the rest of the party (something about the party seemed to make Sephiroth a little anxious), the man began to relax. He seemed to shrink a bit—Zack realized it was because he was no longer standing with his spine ramrod straight.

Putting people at ease was what Zack did for a living. He did it well.

"I heard you also work for NGS," he said.

Sephiroth nodded. His hands ran through that waterfall of silver hair with an unconscious ease born of having hair that was, well, his own. The pirate costume came with a small bandana that he kept having to re-position because his bangs went up in the front. "I am a geneticist," he said, putting the mass of it over one shoulder. A few strands threatened to dip into his punch.

"Oh? That's neat."

"I suppose. I like it very much."

"How'd you meet Mr. Botanist, then?"

"We were studying evolution in a small town near Icicle for about two months. There are some species of plants there that have adapted to the cold climates in recent years. He studied phenotypic changes, and I the genotypic ones."

"So like, Mendel," Zack said, squinting one eye.

Sephiroth nodded. "A bit like Mendel, yes."

When asked about his own job Zack briefly described what he did and Sephiroth said, "I was thinking that you did something that involved people. You're good."

"You think?" Zack was strangely touched to hear this from a complete stranger, even if he already knew it was true.

"Genesis might disagree, but I think so."

Zack sputtered, "S-Seriously?"

Sephiroth's face had been impassive, but now a sly smile grew on his face. "No, that was a joke. To be honest, he complained about you once or twice and said some unsavory things, but I know him. If he really disliked you his tone would have been different."

That was a funny thing to think about. Zack asked Sephiroth a few questions about Genesis—and it was so clear that Sephiroth loved him; he got this glow as he spoke about his husband—and throughout their conversation they were plagued by the dogs, who had decided they wanted pets from these two men in particular.

All evening they'd been underfoot, lying on people's feet and stretching out on their backs, _begging_ for chips and turkey wraps with those big puppy eyes… Angeal had firmly ordered everybody not to feed them, because Shiva had diet restrictions and they were both spoiled besides.

Sephiroth took a small, nervous step back when Shiva started running between his legs and pushing her snout against the bottom of his swashbuckling pants.

"She'll calm down if you pet her like this," Zack said. He crouched and gently reached for Shiva's head, glancing up at Sephiroth to make sure he watched. Shiva pressed her head into Zack's hand, and as Zack gave her some affection, running his skin over the Great Dane's short, velvetlike fur, she stilled.

"Hey, baby," Zack cooed, placing his plate on the floor so he could rub her neck with his other hand. The dog froze like a statue. Even her wagging tail stilled, provided Zack kept petting.

"Genesis always says it's funny how she does that," Sephiroth murmured. He bent and stroked Shiva from the top of her head down the long, ridged line of her back.

Zack watched approvingly. "I live next door, yeah? My son Denzel fell in love with these two right after we moved in. He spends a lot of his time peeking out our windows to see if they're in the backyard."

Sephiroth, having grown more comfortable petting Shiva, moved to Buster, who was watching his friend get all of the affection with big, sad, dopey eyes. Buster was much calmer and it was impossible not to love him. Sephiroth was a big man with big hands but even they seemed small when he worked it into Buster's fur and gave a few hearty scritches. Buster yawned, dousing them both in horrific dog breath.

"How old is your son?"

"He's seven," Zack said proudly. "Second grade. He went as Vincent Valentine tonight, from the TV show. My Ex has him out trick-or-treating right now."

"That's nice," Sephiroth said. It seemed most of his attention was captured by Buster, and the massive stomach exposed to him as the dog flopped onto his back. Zack saw Sephiroth glance into Buster's eyes, then frown and dutifully rub the dog's belly. Cute. "I enjoyed trick-or-treating as a child."

"Mm. His Dad does too—I'm sure they're having fun. Cloud ends up eating too much of Denzel's candy and they usually get into an argument about it, though."

Sephiroth briefly looked at him before fixing his gaze back on Buster. After that, Sephiroth seemed to open up even more with Zack. Queer folks had to look out for each other, after all. Sephiroth told him a bit about his relationship with Genesis, and how they'd been married for six years. Angeal had been his friend ever since that trip to Icicle, but since he'd started dating Genesis, they'd gotten a lot closer.

Sephiroth confided in him, after the dogs scampered off, that while Angeal had been bad for a while he was the happiest he'd been in at least a year or two these days. "I think moving was good for him," Sephiroth said. He fixed Zack with the same strange, soul-probing look he'd given him earlier in the kitchen. "And I believe meeting you was good for him, too. I am grateful to you."

"Oh…" Zack rubbed the back of his neck, flustered. It did not happen often, but he didn't know what to say.

He did not have to respond, though, because the arm of a rather fancy vampire slipped around Sephiroth's waist. Genesis pressed against his side and pressed a kiss to his cheek, making Sephiroth smile.

…Dammit, they actually were really cute.

"Come join the party, you two," Genesis said. His one hand pressed flat against Sephiroth's exposed abs, abs Zack had been very careful not to ogle too blatantly all evening. He tickled a bit and his captive pirate squirmed away.

Angeal was back now, sitting on the couch and even with what looked like another seat saved for Zack. Zack walked past him though, but not without an electrifying look shared between them. It could have been the lighting but Angeal's look smoldered.

With the back of his neck prickling, Zack mingled.

Genesis loudly suggested that everyone play board games for a while, and brought them all out before everyone could consent. Zack had not been to a party, really, in… a long time. He remembered the parties he used to go to with Cloud, at frat houses and stuff. It was interesting seeing the differences. Things here were calm; people were talking, not half naked and dancing. Lazard was quite drunk and nodding off on an armchair in the corner—that kind of thing seemed to be the same. Despite being quite a bit chiller than what Zack was used to it was still very fun.

He played a game where you stacked blocks into a tower and had to remove them one by one with Elena, a cute blonde dressed as a spy, and Renn and Dorin, the married scientists. The couple had been keeping to themselves mostly, other than the couple times Zack had talked to Renn and she'd worked towards getting him smashed. Renn seemed happy to talk now that people were here though.

Elena was a friend of Angeal's—Zack found they'd gone on a couple dates while Angeal was stationed in Junon for a time working on a big piece for the 70th anniversary issue of NGS magazine, years and years ago. She'd since moved to Junon and they kept in touch. She was funny, and her spy earpiece kept falling out of her ear, once into her rum and coke.

Dorin and Renn, Zack found, studied alternative energy—solar power in particular. "Ask us anything about light and we've got it," Renn boasted with a grin, Dorin smiling pleasantly behind her. He played absently with her fingers as they worked out which blocks to pull. Renn's hands were wider and bigger than his, with jutting wristbones and powerful-looking fingers topped with bright nail polish. The colors looked really cute against her brown skin, and Zack noticed this despite not being the greatest nail polish connoisseur out there.

"Are you a zombie?" Zack asked after his own turn.

"Yeah," she said, nodding. She had stitch marks in face paint tracking here and there and tattered clothes. Dorin, a pale blond guy, was a clown; he did not seem in love with his costume.

"Spooky," Zack said.

"Yeah," Renn said. "Did you know that there's a fairly feasible way that the zombie apocalypse might come about?"

Elena, letting her breath out in a whoosh after holding it as she removed her block, asked, "Really? What do you mean?"

"There's a species of fungus," Renn said, eyeing them both eagerly, "That infects a body, kills the host, and manipulates their brain after death. The fungus erupts from their body and any nearby organisms that inhale its spores get infected."

"Oh…" Elena looked uncomfortable. "Gross."

Dorin gave a halfhearted, "Maybe we should talk about this later," but Renn told Zack and Elena all about how the fungus spores would overtake the brain and carve through the exoskeleton. It was nauseating. Elena seemed slightly scared by the possibility of an _actual_ zombie apocalypse and Zack found himself soon pulling a block out that he _knew_ would make the tower fall, just to have it over with. He excused himself after picking the ones off the floor that had fallen.

 _Scientists,_ seriously! Always oversharing, the lot of them.

He played a word game with Rude and Reno, who had him in stitches. He got Lazard a drink of water. Genesis pouted for a full minute after Zack creamed him in a knowledge trivia game, but eventually admitted that Zack was better-versed in the great mechanics of the world than he. He and Rude talked for a while and hit it off surprisingly well. They compared music libraries on their phones and Rude filled him in on NGS gossip—Zack didn't even _know_ the people Rude was telling him about but was enthralled.

Throughout this, he was aware of Angeal. The man was doing his own thing, and was having fun. Occasionally their eyes would meet across the room and Angeal would smile; Zack would return it. Maybe it would be the other way around, but there was always a smile. Late in the evening Zack went into the kitchen, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Angeal get up to follow him in.

They ate tiny bowls of ice cream while leaning against the counter, not saying much. Zack took off his stupid hat. Angeal chuckled at his hair and ruffled it, trying to fix the flattened hat-head… his fingers felt soothing against Zack's scalp.

Zack side-eyed Angeal for a minute, watching him suck on his spoon. His eyebrows were furrowed in thought.

"Hey," Zack said. Angeal looked his way. "Sephiroth told me something."

"Yeah? You two were talking for a long time. That was nice to see."

"Yeah. He wasn't…gossiping, or anything." That was a bad way to start out a sentence. "He just told me that he's seen you pretty down in the past, and that you've been doing better lately. He's happy for you."

Angeal was quiet for a time. Eventually, he smiled. "Yeah," he said. "I have been doing better. I think the move was one of the best decisions I could have made."

"He seemed to think so. I'm… happy for you too, man."

"Thanks, Zack."

More easy silence. Zack never felt much pressure to talk unnecessarily when he was around Angeal; it was that way with Cloud. Genuine conversation was just extra sweet as a result.

"It's kinda weird," Zack said, glancing up at the ceiling, "How time works, when you're healing. It's like… the hurt never really goes away entirely. You'll still get moments where you think about it and it's a big deal all over again. But… we recover faster, each time. You know?"

"That's a nice way of putting it. I can't say it's easy, even a year and a half after breaking up with Aerith." Angeal scuffed one Jester shoe against the kitchen tile. "But I am getting better at getting back up every time thoughts about her knock me down."

"Good," Zack murmured.

Angeal grinned slyly, those handsome crow's feet making an appearance again. "Hell, Genesis and I had an awful break-up in our early twenties. Very occasionally, we think about that. But the joy of seeing him with Sephiroth now makes that okay."

They talked for a long time about it. About seeing partners with new people. Angeal said that maybe seeing Aerith with somebody new would make him feel better… but at the same time, maybe it was too soon, and it would make him crumple. Zack speculated about what it would be like seeing Cloud with someone new someday.

Angeal knew all about Zack's complicated feelings about Cloud. Zack had vented about so much, and confided so much since they'd met. Now that Angeal knew Cloud and had a visual of him, it was weirder. "The thought scares me," Zack admitted. "I know we're divorced and he's able to date whoever… but I guess I like having him there still. I don't want him to not be there anymore."

"I think he'd stay with you even if he did have a new partner. Just maybe not in a sexual way, or the ways you want most."

Zack let out a slow breath. "Yeah. Guess you're right. I'm being a selfish dick."

Angeal shrugged. "We get irrational thoughts when it comes to people we still want, but can't quite have. Selfish or not, they're your thoughts."

"Yeah. Guess they are. I doubt it'll happen anytime soon, so I don't have to worry about that just yet."

Angeal said he was thinking about taking a vacation soon. It had been a little while since he'd gotten out of this area, not since his Costa trip. "Maybe you could come with me sometime," Angeal said. "That'd be nice."

Zack looked over. Like it had happened across the living room, Angeal smiled, and Zack smiled back. Like across the living room, Angeal's gaze had a low burn, like glowing coals.

"It would," he said. Zack would get away. Get some excitement. Something new, something only Angeal Hewley could offer him.

Zack felt like Angeal got him— _really_ got him. It was precious. Not so many people did. He didn't judge Zack, even though Zack was a shitty dad and a shitty ex-husband who abandoned them both for selfish reasons. (…Selfish or not, Zack reminded himself, those reasons were his. And Angeal didn't think less of him for it.)

The kitchen felt hot and the multicolored walls alive, like he was tripping. Zack shook his head, the sound of the doorbell ringing giving him some clarity. Angeal was standing very close. "Let's answer it," Zack said. He reached out and grabbed Angeal's hand, pulling the taller man out through the kitchen towards the door. Genesis beat them to the door though, and Zack dropped Angeal's hand guiltily as the redhead eyed them. He was standing unsteadily and dropped a couple mini chocolate bars as he got the door open.

"Trick or Treat!" chorused a couple kids around Denzel's age.

"Hello!" Genesis said loudly, absolutely delighted. He was drunk. He gave the kids their candy, whispering conspiratorially to them to make sure they didn't tell the other kids that _they_ were getting _three_ pieces each and not _two_ because their costumes were especially lovely. A girl dressed as a robot eyed Angeal over Genesis's shoulder and the man pushed Angeal to the front.

"He's a jester," Genesis said. His hands ran down Angeal's back and squeezed two heaping handfuls of Angeal's ass; the kids couldn't see it thankfully, and Angeal jumped. Zack started to laugh, holding his stomach. Zack tugged on the back of Genesis's fancy vest, getting him back. "You guys like jesters?" Genesis asked.

"What do they do?" asked a small boy. He had a Vincent Valentine costume that wasn't half as good as Denzel's, if Zack did say so himself.

"They dance," Genesis said seriously. "So does this one. Should he dance?"

"Oh, no—" Angeal said, but the children said he should.

With Genesis watching, and Sephiroth's head poked around the corner, and Zack crouched on the ground because his legs wouldn't support him anymore due to his laughter, Angeal did a little jig. He clapped his hands and tapped his feet and wiggled his hips, the bells on his hat tinkling merrily.

The kids laughed at him, in the nice way. Genesis laughed at him in the mean way. Angeal turned back into the house, red-faced and covering his cheek with his palm. Genesis grabbed Angeal and gave him a gigantic smooch on the cheek, still laughing… and Zack had been wrong; Genesis wasn't laughing at him in the mean way at all. Sometimes he just wasn't the best at reading those types of things, despite how he told himself he was such an understanding guy, and how he knew how to handle people.

Maybe it was a good thing that Zack still had more to work on. He wasn't perfect… he definitely was not perfect. Cloud and Denzel, out there somewhere on their own, could attest to that.

Zack was the one to bid the kids farewell and call out, "Happy Halloween!" The small robot yelled it back at him.

Zack shut the door and collected the candy, which Genesis had dropped as he'd flung his arms around his best friend. Sephiroth helped him and adjusted his cat tail after they straightened back up. This night was not perfect… but it was still a very happy Halloween indeed. Maybe that's all he needed. Zack left the bowl nearby so the next person could grab it on their way to greet the next trick-or-treaters, and followed the three men back to the party.


	8. Chapter 8

"Back up a little bit, Denz."

Instead of scooting away from the television Denzel flopped backwards onto the carpet and splayed out his arms, looking upside-down at Cloud. "Why?" he asked.

Cloud both loved and hated the question _why_. He loved when Denzel asked him _why_ the night sky looked different depending on the seasons and he was always happy to discuss _why_ their family was important and special for being a little bit different. The _why_ ones that questioned his authority, because Denzel was seven freaking years old and was hitting that phase, he liked less.

"Because I asked you to," Cloud answered.

"No you didn't." Denzel's thumb rubbed idly over the d-pad of the game controller in his hand. "You told me to."

Cloud almost snapped, but clenched his jaw for a second. He took a breath and then let it out, calmer. "You're right," he admitted. "I didn't ask, and that would have been more polite. But sometimes parents just have to tell their kids to do things, for their own good."

"Why?"

"Because parents—and other adults—look out for a kid's best interests, because they care. Why do you think I told you to move away from the television?"

Denzel scrunched up his face then climbed back up into a sitting position. He faced away from Cloud again. "…Because I'll hurt my eyes," he mumbled.

"Yeah. Do you want to get reading glasses when you're seven? I think you'd look awfully cute in them, like I do, but…"

Denzel shook his head. Cloud could see a small smile on the edge of his mouth when he turned all the way to the side. He crawled backwards a good couple feet and turned to look at Cloud questioningly.

"That's better," Cloud said. "Thank you. Hey—come here, please?"

He held out an arm, and after a second of staring at him Denzel got up and padded over to the couch. Cloud wrapped that arm around Denzel's middle and tugged him off the ground and to his chest. Denzel let out an amused noise and cuddled into him as Cloud rearranged them, lying down. Cloud's head was on the armrest with Denzel comfortably lying on top of him. He stroked a hand down Denzel's back.

"Is something wrong?" Cloud asked. "Are you mad at me? Or having lots of questions about anything?"

"I'm not mad," Denzel said quickly, and so earnestly it put Cloud at ease. "In school we were just… talking about respect."

"Ah."

"Mr. Leonhart says you should ask politely when you need someone to do something."

Cloud's stomach flipped nervously at _Mr. Leonhart_. "That's good advice. Parents and people older than you makes things complicated though. Are you polite to your friends?"

"Yeah. Marlene is bossy sometimes, though."

"Ha, I guess she can be. Same with her dad. Maybe she learned it from him." Denzel giggled, and Cloud kissed the top of his head.

"I think it's about trust," Cloud decided. "You have to trust the adult who's telling you what to do. If a stranger told you to do something—like get in their car—would you do it?"

"No way!"

"Right, no flippin' way. If Tifa told you to get in a car, would you trust her? Trust that she's telling you to get in a car for a good reason?"

Denzel turned his face into Cloud's shoulder, and his voice came out muffled. "Yeah," he answered, "I love her."

Cloud continued to rub his son's back. Denzel felt so strongly about Tifa, and always had. "So you gotta trust the adult who's talking to you," Cloud reiterated. "But we have to trust _you_ —trust that you'll listen to us. And most of all we have to trust ourselves… to trust that we're doing what's best for you, and that we're not abusing our authority."

"'Abusing your authority,'" Denzel enunciated.

"Yeah. There are adults and parents out there who _know_ that because they're older a kid is supposed to listen to them. So they take advantage of that, and can do bad things, or tell a kid to do bad things. Like… what if I told you to do something awful? Like… hurt a dog?"

Denzel pushed himself up on his hands, looking at Cloud with a horrified expression.

"It'd be hard, right? On the one hand, you're supposed to listen to me, and on the other... that's a really awful thing, isn't it?"

"You wouldn't want me to do that." Denzel sounded confident.

"I wouldn't. I trust myself to tell you better things than that—because I love you. And I want to take care of you, and keep you safe."

Denzel was quiet for a moment. "I love you too," he then mumbled.

"Do things make a bit more sense?"

"Yeah."

"It's tough… because sometimes adults tell kids to do things that they _swear_ are for the best but aren't so good. And that's when a kid has to decide for themselves whether it's worth listening to. But… your Papa, Tifa and I always try really hard. And we want you to trust us. We trust you."

"I trust you," Denzel said. "Sorry for not listening when you told me to move away from the TV."

"Apology accepted. It's okay, though—I'm glad we got to talk about this. And if you have more questions about this you can ask us whenever."

Denzel retrieved his controller but this time decided to play on the couch with Cloud, their legs all folded together and Denzel's small toes poking Cloud's shin. Cloud returned to the motorcycle magazine he'd been reading, but mostly so he could cover his face, and the wild panic written across it.

 _Holy fuck what the fuck was that I'm such a fuckup_

His fucking kid was all confused! And thinking that Cloud didn't respect him!

He tried to calm down, peeking over the top of the magazine at his son. Denzel looked happy enough. He looked content, and he'd sounded like he'd gotten some resolution out of that conversation Cloud winged.

Were his examples any good? Did he say the right things? Was Denzel secure now or was he more distrustful of his three caretakers in general, now knowing that even Cloud, Zack, and Tifa had the potential to give him a _bad_ order that he had to decide if it was so on his own? Had he just planted a bad seed of resentment in Denzel? Was he going to grow up to question their every decision now? Was he going to dip out at sixteen, hating rules and running away from home?

Cloud tapped the glossy pages against his forehead. He needed to fucking calm down.

If Zack, the _better father_ , was here, though… he'd know what to do. He would have said something different that laid it out so clearly for Denzel, and made him smile, and made him feel nothing but cared about and reassured.

Cloud's grip tightened as bitterness welled inside him.

He eyed Denzel as negative feelings made his core tremble. "Denzy," he said.

"Yeah?"

"What did you think about Papa having plans on Halloween?"

Halloween was only a couple days in the past, and Denzel tilted his head. His spikes were messier than usual; he hadn't showered in one day too many. Kid fought him on it every damn time. "Um," he said, glancing at the screen, where his character had just died and gone back to the last checkpoint, "He told me he went to a party. I don't mind him not coming with us if he had fun."

The steam coming out of Cloud's ears transformed from a raging river into trickling, guilty puffs. "Oh," he said.

"I had fun with you."

Cloud raked a hand through his hair. "I had fun with you too," he said, a bit shakily.

Dammit. It was so hard to stay angry at Zack when dealing with Denzel's forgiveness. Kid was so innocent.

Trust… their family needed more of it than just between child and adult, and from adult to child, or adult to themselves. Cloud had to trust Zack, too—and that was hard, right now.

He was hiding something, obviously, Cloud thought at that week's family dinner. Zack sat across from him, with Denzel at his side. Tifa, sensing he was a little tense, had her hand on his thigh underneath the table, and gave him a friendly, grounding pat every couple of minutes.

Zack grinned and laughed and charmed his way through dinner. He swiped a French fry through the ketchup mess on Denzel's cheek and _ate it,_ making everybody laugh (Tifa and Cloud) or yell (Denzel). He seemed goofy and happy and loveable—and gosh, how Cloud loved him—but Cloud knew something about Zack was _different_.

He was the type to ditch his family on Halloween for some _party_ , now, at least.

Tifa had told him not to dwell too much on it, and he was trying.

At the following week's family dinner, though, it still popped into his head. Cloud found himself overanalyzing everything Zack did. Second-guessing their conversations. Wondering about his gestures. Trying to see if Halloween was indicative of something (was Zack LEAVING him?) or if Zack just needed a night away.

By the third family dinner Cloud was exhausted from thinking about it.

Trust… Cloud _needed_ to have it between him and Zack. When Denzel wasn't looking Cloud leant against Zack and wrapped his arms around him, pressing his face into the v of his t-shirt, inhaling the scent of Zack's tan skin.

Zack rubbed his back as comfortingly as Cloud had rubbed Denzel's that day on the couch. "You okay, Spike?"

 _No._ "Yeah, I'm fine."

Trust… Zack was still here, and he seemed pretty normal, Cloud had concluded. In the past couple weeks he'd needed Cloud to keep Denzel for more nights than usual, not saying why, but he probably was just on another big dating kick. They never seemed to go too well for Zack, and Cloud felt bad for him. He trusted Zack, yeah. He was sure that… y'know. If something was going on, Zack would tell him.

Zack, the _better father,_ would speak up. He wouldn't keep a secret quiet, not like Cloud was.

"Papa's gonna pick you up in the afternoon," Cloud murmured.

"Okay." Denzel let Cloud fuss with his clothes for a few more moments before he wriggled away and hurried across the room to his teacher. Denzel got a new sweater vest, a thicker one, for the end of November and the upcoming winter, to wear over long-sleeve shirts. Cloud peered over his shoulder as Denzel found Leonhart. He bounced on his toes in his excitement, the light-up heels of his boots twinkling merrily.

Cloud put the rest of Denzel's stuff away in his cubby. He took his time, making sure everything was neat. He checked and then double-checked Denzel's lunch, to make sure he hadn't forgotten any of the food groups, and that he had a treat in there from Tifa. When he couldn't linger any longer, he stood, and walked over to his son.

He put a hand on the top of Denzel's head and smiled down at Denzel instead of at his teacher. "Was he impressed?"

"Yes!" Denzel glowed with happiness. "Mr. Leonhart says he has one just like it!"

Denzel's vest had an argyle print, with purples and grays. Cloud could see it on a rather stylish businessman in downtown Midgar who worked at a small law firm. Leonhart's own vest today was black with a gold trim. He wore gold cufflinks on his white dress shirt… perhaps belonging to a rather stylish businessman in uptown Midgar who worked at a large law firm. Cloud hesitated and glanced at Leonhart's face, gauging the mood, before he said, "You'd look good in purples."

No reaction. Squall replied without a hiccup, "You look very nice, Denzel. You'll stay warm out at recess."

It was hard not to sigh. This was the Grumpy Teacher he was dealing with today, clearly (as Cloud had come to call this particular version of Squall Leonhart). Cloud, like always, was not sure how to handle Grumpy Teacher. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, not quite squirming, not quite uneasy, but… unsure, perhaps.

These were awkward and uncomfortable interactions. More and more Cloud would just… leave—he'd squash his hurt and his frustration and walk out. He'd go to work and try not to think about Squall at all as he went about his day, and try not to cringe as he came back to pick Denzel up at the end of the day, provided Grumpy Teacher was still in effect and had not been replaced with Lovely Teacher.

Cloud couldn't skedaddle this time though. Harvest Day, a holiday celebrating one of the most popular myths about how civilization had started on the continent, was in two days.

After a gentle push to Denzel's back the boy went off to talk to Marlene and another friend of his. Cloud stood as straight as he could (still not as tall as Leonhart) and met his gaze. Cloud often stared down irritable delivery customers, some of whom yelled at him, or threatened to sue _Highwind's_ , without even a muscle twitch giving them any satisfaction. Zack had once said a lion could roar in Cloud's face and Cloud would look unmoved.

Leonhart had a metal keychain on his briefcase of a small lion Cloud had seen a few times. "Hey," he said, casually moving his hands into his pockets. He had no time for bullshit, and got to the point. "Harvest Day is Thursday. Do you still want me to come or not?"

Leonhart looked down at his desk, busying himself with papers that Cloud already knew did not need to be busied with in this particular moment. "If you want," he said. "I do need the help."

Cloud did sigh this time. He rubbed the back of his neck and put all the annoyance he felt into his next sentence. "Yeah, well, I made sure I had off tomorrow morning weeks ago."

—After their _date_ , when Squall had asked him to assist with the Harvest Day festivities so they would be able to see each other again in a capacity that wasn't just _drop Denzel off_ or _pick Denzel up_.

Leonhart's mouth twisted. He looked guilty.

Cloud knew Leonhart felt _bad_ about his erratic behavior the past month. He was clearly torn about whatever it was he was thinking, and the flip-flopping from the gentle, indulgent man Cloud had gone to MPSM with to a guy who tried to keep as much professional distance between them as possible let Cloud know Squall had _issues_. Whatever they were.

That was the only thing keeping Cloud trying, honestly. If just anybody had started treating him badly after they went on a date, well, he'd remove himself. He had too much self-respect to stay in any relationship (official or not, or even a friendship) where he wasn't being given the kindness he deserved.

Maybe whatever Leonhart was dealing with was something they could talk about, and clear up, and make it work. Because… on that museum date, at least… they worked so well.

"It doesn't make any sense, Teef," Cloud griped that evening. _Very early the next morning_ was more accurate. "He's so… hot and cold. It's irritating."

Tifa, crouched under a table and sweeping out the shattered glass a drunk patron had dropped somewhere around midnight, popped back up. She frowned. "When did this start again?"

"Oh, you're fine," Cloud murmured. Only two customers remained in the bar. On weekdays _Seventh Heaven_ closed at two and at four on weekends. Often Cloud wondered what kept folks here this late on a Tuesday night, steadily drinking and keeping to themselves. Sometimes he asked, striking up a casual conversation, but most of the time he did not. He mopped up around the stool a middle-aged man was sitting at while nursing his beers (he had moved like he thought Cloud was pushing him out of his seat) and moved onto the others.

"A couple days after our date," he answered. "Everything was great just after it. Then he, I dunno, went home that next weekend and came back spooked. It's like he's afraid of our date, or our…connection, or something." Cloud felt silly saying it.

"I wonder what his deal is. Regardless of his reasons… he shouldn't be jerking you around like this. If he doesn't want to pursue a relationship with you _fine_ —but he should just say so."

"It's not always that easy Teef," Cloud said, shaking her head. Never being in a relationship of her own and having no interest in one gave Tifa interesting perspectives when she offered romantic advice. "Maybe he just… doesn't want to make it awkward, since I see him a couple times a week."

"It _is_ a shitty idea to date someone you see regularly."

"Yeah, got it, thanks. Too late."

Tifa chuckled at him, now wiping down the sticky and barbecue-sauce dotted bar tables. There was only one part-timer left in the kitchen, packing away supplies and washing dishes.

"I'm going to the Harvest Day thing Thursday morning. I'll try to get some answers."

"What if his answer isn't what you're looking to hear?"

The mop slowed and stopped. Cloud twisted the handle idly as he thought. "That'll suck," Cloud decided, "Because I thought he liked me more than that, to just… give up that easily. But that's fine. I'll move on, I guess."

 _Zack's always around,_ Cloud thought, and then berated himself for it. He wasn't supposed to have that mindset anymore. He and Tifa already talked about that.

After another half-hour the bar closed, and the two of them waved the lingering patrons goodnight. Tifa counted out the tips they all made and settled the registers, paying her part-timer and then saying goodnight to him too. Cloud kept the tips he made when he worked here but didn't receive anything else, at his own request.

It was fun work, and he was always able to retreat upstairs and take a nap or relax, unlike Tifa, who had to run the show. They rearranged the bottles of liquor behind the shelf, sometimes bumping shoulders or touching the other's hip briefly as they walked around them to put a bottle where it belonged.

It was late, and it was quiet, now; Cloud was tired. Tifa looked it as well.

As they finished up she asked him, "Are you going to tell Zack about Denzel's teacher if it goes well?"

"I don't know," Cloud answered before he could really think about it.

Tifa stayed quiet over the next several minutes though. Cloud could _feel_ all the things she wasn't saying coming off of her in waves. He winced, his back to her like a coward, fussing with the gin section even though it was already perfect.

"I'll tell Zack," he muttered. "Eventually."

"Why haven't you done it already? He likes to talk about his dates."

Tifa already knew why—Cloud knew this, just like he knew she was only saying this because she wanted Cloud to say it back, to admit it to himself out loud. He was too tired to play this game for much longer.

"Maybe I don't want things to change."

"You having a secret boyfriend on the side sounds like a change to me."

"…I meant, with me and you, and us and Denzel, and Zack too."

Tifa walked the couple feet over to Cloud's side. She slipped an arm around his waist and leant against him. She hooked her chin over his shoulder, her free hand finding Cloud's and holding on.

"You think everything will stay the same if you keep it quiet?"

With reluctance Cloud admitted, "No."

Tifa developed a spectacular mom-voice in the past seven years. It was a perfect mix of caring and sternness, and Cloud was as weak to it as Denzel. "What if Zack gets another partner?"

"He won't."

Cloud had only privately thought that to himself a handful of times, yet… there it was, out in the open. "Those people he's dating now, they're not what he needs. He keeps trying but every time it doesn't work out. I'm not worried about that."

"'Worried?'"

"Dammit," Cloud swore. Tifa wasn't even putting words into his mouth; he'd said it himself. The meaning was coming out all wrong— "I'm not saying I don't want Zack to date new people."

 _I don't, though,_ Cloud's brain said, and for not the first time that evening he had to scold himself. He was simply not allowed to think of Zack like that, like a backup, or like a puppy who'd always be at his beck and call, never getting anywhere on his own.

A bit feebly Cloud continued, "I'm just saying I don't think it'll happen."

"Cloud…"

"I know," he answered. He leant back into her embrace a bit, and let her stroke the back of his hand with her thumb. "I gotta move on."

"You have to be honest with him."

"I know," Cloud said again.

Zack (Denzel's poor Papa) deserved an explanation—but so did Cloud.

On Thursday morning, he set out to get his own.

Leonhart had his name down on a list of people to allow into the building before a certain time. It was chilly, being the last week in November now, and Cloud buried his face in the collar of his jacket as he held up his ID and waited for an overnight security guard to let him in. He signed on a clipboard and got a sticker to put on his shirt with his name (Mr. Strife). Then he was free to wander up to Denzel's classroom.

Before, when visiting early (but not quite this early) with the Home & School Council, he'd thought the empty school was strange. It was downright spooky now. Cloud felt the gaze of the security guard prickling the back of his neck as he walked down the long, empty hallway.

Early-morning sunlight shone through the skylights in the high ceiling. Cloud felt those familiar butterflies in his stomach as he climbed one of the staircases to the second floor. They used to be because he was so excited to see Squall. Now it was mostly felt dread.

He considered stopping and waiting outside of the classroom. He wanted to get his heart to slow down a bit, and for the cramps in his gut to subside. There was little point in hiding, though; his footsteps echoed on this empty floor. The lights in class 2-8 were on.

Cloud let himself inside.

Leonhart stood on a chair in the back of the room taking down stapled pictures with accompanying short narratives. He twisted around to look at Cloud as he came in. "Good morning," he greeted, in that same bland, professional voice he'd been giving Cloud far too often lately.

"Morning," Cloud answered, crankier than he'd meant. He turned away so he didn't have to look at the teacher and pulled off his coat. Quite a few times he'd seen the classroom totally empty, usually at the end of the day when he'd been talking to Squall for so long all the other students had gradually trickled out, except for Denzel, who was usually curled up with a book. He'd gotten good at entertaining himself as Cloud chatted with his favorite teacher.

This time of day had a different feel to it though. It was something like excitement—the room was not preparing to rest overnight but instead would soon be bustling with twenty-plus seven-year-olds. The Harvest Day banner, painted that week by Leonhart's students, was carefully spread out on the carpet in preparation for being proudly hung on the wall.

Cloud took his time as he draped his coat on the back of a student's chair. He tugged at the sleeveless turtleneck he wore (he often got uncomfortable wearing sleeves that were too tight, though a loose sweater or coat was fine) and spent some time staring at Squall's computer setup and the things on his desk until the tension drained from his spine and the irritation inside him faded somewhat.

Then he turned around. Squall had done so as well and silently removed staples, paying him no attention.

Cloud drawled, "So what do you need me to do, Teach?"

Squall's shoulders tightened. That wasn't something Cloud would call him. Perhaps Zack, but not Cloud. He stepped off the stool and walked a bit closer.

"Thanks for coming," he said again. "The banner needs to go up. We need to paint pictures of the WEAPONs on poster board, and make more decorations for the tables." Squall pointed at a small wreath on the windowsill with several small marbles hot-glued in the branches—they were supposed to be _materia_ , from the Harvest Day legend. He indicated several more crafty things they had to get done; Cloud only listened to half of it.

He stared at Squall's lips, at the shapes they made as he spoke, and at his eyes, which weren't meeting Cloud's. "I guess you can start with the WEAPONs," Squall muttered. He seemed a little flustered at Cloud's silence. "Come on, we have a supply closet, I'll show you."

The door to the supply closet was against the same wall as Leonhart's desk, and was covered with a couple motivational posters (cute) and the chore chart (cuter). A quick check showed Denzel was on plant duty this week. He had to clean up any dirt that spilled from their sprouts (now quite tall) by the windows.

(Didn't Zack's new neighbor have a lot of plants or something? Cloud was pretty sure either Zack or Denzel had mentioned it… perhaps the kid already had some experience with that. He'd have to remember to ask.)

Squall opened the door and disappeared inside. It was the size of a standard walk-in closet in a home, though lined from floor to ceiling in boxes of craft supplies. Cloud hardly spared a glance at the piles of construction paper and plastic bins of paint bottles. He firmly shut the door behind them. The dark closet had been illuminated with the fluorescents in the classroom before, but with the door closed, he and Leonhart were plunged into darkness.

"I have questions for you."

Cloud said it quickly, before his nerve could fail him. He groped with one hand along the wall until he located the switch. It was rather low, perhaps where a second-grader could easily reach it.

It was just a single bulb. The lighting wasn't stellar— _it could hardly even be compared, actually, with the surface of this solar system's own sun reaching an incredible 5,778 Kelvin on the surface, which was relatively tame compared to other stars out there in the universe—_ but it was enough so that Cloud could see Squall's face, even if it was half in shadow.

He didn't look happy.

Cloud didn't really give a fuck.

"I thought our date went well," he said. " _Really_ well. I thought you were interested in seeing if we could keep that going. If I'm gettin' that out of nowhere and the date tanked and you're not interested, fine, but just tell me so. Seems like you've been back and forth about whether you actually like me or not ever since and I'm pretty sick of it."

Folding his arms, Cloud leant casually back against the door, blocking Squall's exit. He didn't look evasive though. He just ducked his head, his bangs falling into his eyes, and stayed quiet.

"…I guess I've been a dick," he sighed.

"Understatement."

Cloud wasn't even sure where this no-nonsense attitude came from. When he fought with Zack, back when they were still married, he'd been so passive. He'd get on Fenrir, drive away, ignore his cell phone and his voice mail and stay hidden until he felt ready to come back, hoping Zack would just drop it.

"It's not that I didn't enjoy our date."

Cloud didn't budge. "Then what's your fuckin' problem?"

Out was the old Nibel accent, and the twang at the end of his words and in his vowels.

Leonhart sat down on a box. "It wasn't easy getting this job," he said. When Cloud looked unimpressed, he continued, "The competition for teaching positions in this school district is unreal. Teaching elementary-aged kids isn't even my passion, though it's fine for now, and that shows, in interviews. It was just… hard, getting here. And I'm new—I've only been teaching for a year. This is my second class. I'm not going to jeopardize my career to get involved with one of the parents of my students."

Cloud froze. That seemed pretty final. Something Tifa said once came to him, though, and he found his voice. "Are you sure you're not allowed to date a parent?"

"…I can't imagine any of the administration would be ecstatic."

"But you don't know for sure if it's a rule or not." Cloud stepped closer, and then closer, until the tops of his boots nearly tapped against Squall's loafers. "You were thinking about actually being a thing."

"It's one thing to flirt with your student's dad every time you see him. I could even pretend that I went to see you at that museum out of politeness, but going on another date, or letting this go any further…"

"Go further?" Cloud bent at the waist. He had his hands braced on Squall's thighs now. Their faces were close; Cloud was right up in his space. One of his exhales buffeted some of the soft brown hair falling into Leonhart's face. His palms _burned_ where they rested on his legs. "So, tell me if I'm wrong, but I'm not the only one who's thought, 'Hey, I wouldn't mind it if he was my boyfriend.' Or partner, or whatever you wanna call it."

The hitch in Leonhart's voice as Cloud loomed even closer was music to Cloud's ears. "…You're not wrong."

"Or who's thought, 'I want to climb into his lap and ride that cock I'm always thinking about despite it always being in those fancy dress pants.'"

"Slightly wrong. Think, ' _Highwind's_ work shorts.'"

"Or who's thought, 'Damn, I'd like to kiss him…'"

Squall's voice was a low whisper. "You're not wrong."

Cloud moved his hands from Squall's thighs to cup his face. At the beginning of the year his hair had been a bit shorter than middle-length, but it looked like he was growing it out. It made him look older, but in a good way. The softness of it brushed against Cloud's skin.

"But this conversation sucks," Leonhart said bluntly. As he spoke his hands lifted to grab Cloud's hips. "I didn't want to tell you that we can't do this, since it's so clear we click. I don't want to tell you that, but I am. Right now."

"We can keep quiet about it. You don't need to announce to the principal we're fucking."

Squall's hands gripped Cloud's hips tighter. "I know that."

"Denzel doesn't even have to know for a while."

"But you'd want to tell him eventually."

"Yeah, I would."

Leonhart let out a slow breath. He looked haggard, and tired, and stressed. "I'd think about what it would be like, being able to keep you." Warmth pooled in Cloud's belly at the phrasing. "I'd bring you to a Triple Triad tournament, and you'd assault the competition with obscure space facts until they fell asleep from boredom, and I won. We'd get a drink to celebrate, and then I'd bring you back to my place and fuck you until you couldn't speak."

Ohhhh, shit.

"But then I'd freak out, and think about my _job_ , and my responsibility to Denzel. I guess I hoped we'd be able to just forget about it."

"Forget about it," Cloud repeated, unimpressed. "More like I was confused as hell about why you suddenly turned into such an asshole."

Squall muttered, turning his cheek into Cloud's palm, "Sorry."

 _You could have just told me you're a coward,_ Cloud almost said. It certainly was good information to know. Still… it wasn't enough to deter him, not yet. Instead, he asked, with kindness in his voice, "Scary?"

A small, soft chuckle, filling up the small space between them. "I guess."

Squall Leonhart speak for _hell yeah it was, and I recognize I'm a giant dick._

Cloud glanced down; he really _had_ spent a lot of time thinking about the bulge in those fancy dress pants, and he wanted that giant dick.

He laughed as Squall pulled at his hips, urging him to get closer. "What?" the teacher asked, but Cloud just shook his head. He lifted a leg and unceremoniously sat himself down on Squall's lap.

Whatever was in the box Leonhart sat on was not meant to withstand the weight of two adults. It sagged under them but both of them noticed this only distantly, far too preoccupied with getting Cloud centered and spread out over Squall's thighs without risk of tipping backwards. The hands on Cloud's hips left and reappeared in the hair on the back of Cloud's head, fingers twisting in it, _pulling_. Cloud groaned deep in his throat and ducked his head.

The first kiss was a mess, and so were the next couple. Cloud was perched too high and Leonhart's neck craned back at an odd angle, making their lips meet sloppily. Cloud's nose bumped painfully against the bridge of Squall's, and Squall's tongue swept at the skin beneath Cloud's bottom lip. A _mess_.

But once they took a second to calm the fuck down, stop the desperate pawing at each other, and Cloud tried to devour Squall's face a little less, they managed to angle their faces just right, lock lips and then have a long, breathless tangle of tongues that was so _good_ it had Squall groaning into Cloud's mouth and Cloud quaking where he perched, his hips rolling to find friction before his rational brain could think about it.

It was still a little messy, but now in the good way.

The box caved in further under their combined weight and they moved before they sank into it and would have a difficult (and unsexy) time climbing out. Cloud pulled Squall up but before he could stand fully turned him around and eased him to the floor of the closet.

Squall's long legs had no business doing anything like this, but they spread and did their best to accommodate dozens of boxes of fabric paint, beads, stock paper, and cardboard toilet paper rolls and Cloud inserting himself between them.

Leonhart fisted his hands in Cloud's hair again and yanked him down. His mind went hazy as Squall's tongue slipped past his lips and explored his mouth, nothing but cool confidence now, none of the wishy-washy uncertainty from before. He'd pull back, nipping at Cloud's swollen lips or pressing a kiss to the fullest curve of one.

Cloud rolled his hips again, but this time with Squall's leg wrapped around his waist and his cock pressed right against Cloud's with only clothes in the way. They panted and kissed and grabbed and pulled, Cloud working his hips until both of them were hard, _hurting_ in their confining pants, burning in their skin but still trying to crawl closer to each other, as if it would help.

"Gaia _damn_ it," Squall moaned.

Cloud gave Squall a positively salacious look, pushing up on his elbows. "Uh huh," he encouraged.

"No," Squall said, "Gaia damn it. We have shit to do."

"…Fuck."

Cloud hung his head, the ticklish tips of his spikes falling into Squall's face. He heard a soft laugh, barely-there. He dropped down enough to kiss him again, all sweetness. After a last nibble at that full bottom lip Cloud climbed off the other man and stood.

They both adjusted their junk while watching the other do it (ugh, Cloud wanted it) and then spilled out of the closet and back into the classroom. The bright lights were blinding.

"Wait, we, uh—" Squall's thoughts were scattered, "—went in there in the first place for craft shit. Hold on."

He returned with poster board and craft supplies, and they got to work.

The story behind Harvest Day was that some of the first settlers on the continent, the Cetra, had trouble surviving the first few years after arriving. Back then the only other lifeforms on the continent were animals, and mysterious creatures called the WEAPONs which came and assisted the Cetra. Despite the rather intimidating name, the creatures—Emerald, Diamond, Sapphire, Jade, Ruby, Ultima, and Omega—had come from the center of the planet itself (indeed, the planet crated them just for this purpose) to assist the Cetra. The WEAPONs taught the Cetra how to fend for themselves, hosting a large party after their first true harvest, and how to defeat lesser creatures.

Then, when the Cetra had turned against the WEAPONs many years later, the creatures destroyed their civilization. By then, though, descendants of these people covered all parts of the land.

Utter bullshit. It was a fun story, though, and every year people celebrated the day the creatures crawled out from underground to keep the Cetra alive.

Cloud was no artist. Still, he did his best to paint the stinking things. Occasionally Squall would snort at his work but made no move to stop him. He was making little ceremonial materia bracers for the kids to wear. The WEAPONs gave the Cetra materia, small chunks of their flesh that granted them magical powers.

Cloud worked quickly. The sooner he was done, the more time he'd have to make out with Leonhart in the closet before the kids showed up.

As the paint dried they hung up the banner and made more wreaths. They decorated a table in the back with a cloth dyed poisonous greens (proper Harvest Day colors) and set up the snacks donated by other caretakers that week. Zack bought his favorite snack from the grocery store for the occasion and Cloud smiled to himself as he placed the bag of spicy chips next to the rest of the grub.

They had a CD that played proper Harvest Day music (rather creepy chanting and lots of harps) and hung a likeness of Jenova, the Cetra who spearheaded the movement to turn against the WEAPONs, from the ceiling.

They finished around seven-fifteen. Students would start trickling in a little before eight. Cloud grabbed Squall's hand and led him back to the craft closet, shutting the door firmly and then pushed Squall up against it.

He cradled that handsome face in his hands and whispered reverently against his mouth, "Every time I see you, I've wanted to kiss you."

"I know," Leonhart panted. His hands pet the soft skin above Cloud's jeans.

Cloud admitted something more romantic: "I want to hold your hand again, like in the museum. I had so much fun."

Squall just told him again, the growl of his voice going straight to Cloud's cock, "I know."

Cloud dropped to his knees. Leonhart exhaled sharply up above but didn't try to stop him. A hand fell to Cloud's spikes as Cloud greedily grabbed at his belt, undoing it and enjoying the soft chime of the metal as it flopped open.

He nuzzled at the zipper of Squall's slacks and looked up through his lashes. The teacher looked dumbfounded.

Encouraging. He massaged his cock through his pants for a minute, just loving the feel of these _fancy dress pants_ against his calloused palm. He felt out the shape of it and let his mind run rampant with filthy thoughts about it as he coaxed Squall back into hardness. He'd like it inside him, but just the tip, so he could savor the biggest stretch and tease himself, rocking back onto it centimeter by centimeter until Squall was eventually seated inside him. He'd like to see it twitch in his hand and see come dribble down the length, and he'd like it if Squall fucked him good and then pulled out, making eye contact with Cloud as he jerked himself off right onto his asshole, maybe with Cloud having a finger or two in the whole mess to spread himself wide and wait for it.

 _Fuck._ Well, here it was, so close—might as well get a visual so his disjointed fantasies could get a bit more specific.

He tugged down the pants—admiring his underwear and pressing a kiss to the damp spot on the cotton too—before peeling those back as well and enthusiastically mouthing at the shaft of Leonhart's cock before he really realized what he was working with.

Cloud lewdly sucked on the head, drawing back with a line of spit connecting his tongue to its slit, and took a few seconds to survey. Cut. Nice shape. Pointed a bit to the left when hard; Cloud had always thought crooked dicks charming. A grower. He trimmed his pubes. All very acceptable. (Cloud rather thought that Squall could have a dick wider than it was long and have three balls and he'd still get hard thinking about it.)

Back to business. He gripped the base with a few fingers on one hand and cupped his balls with his other. Two of them, phew. He pressed affectionate kiss after kiss to its length, exploring the protruding veins and feeling the soft, pale skin under his lips.

Squall's thighs were trembling; Cloud could feel it. "Cloud," he breathed—and dammit, Cloud _loved_ that lazy drawl to his words. Everything he said made Cloud want to fuck him. "You don't have to—"

Cloud let out an emphatic _mmmmn!_ around his mouthful, leaving little room for argument. _Chill out, Strife,_ he told himself, with little success.

He relaxed his throat and took more of Squall's dick into his mouth. His free hand worked the shaft, gripping firmly. He had to come quick.

There was an experimental little thrust of Squall's hips. Cloud looked up through his lashes again. It was hard not to smile around the man's cock as Cloud took in his flushed face and the too-serious look in his eyes. They were at odds with each other, and it was cute.

His _hipbones_ were cute. Cloud's hand left Squall's balls and pushed up the hem of his sweater vest and dress shirt. This was the vest similar to Denzel's new one… blue and gray argyle, like his eyes, and not purple. Cloud gently scratched his nails down one of those hipbones, for a ticklish sensation more than anything, and Squall squinted one eye, peering down at him.

Cloud really did grin around Squall's cock then, and choked a bit as he lost his rhythm. He got it back quickly though, his blond brows drawing together in concentration. His tongue worked on the underside, occasionally swirling around the head as Squall fucked his face with gentle, hesitant rolls of his hips.

Cloud could take a lot more, but this was nice, too. "I'm close," Squall warned, his voice tight and deliciously deep. Cloud popped off with a last lick and jerked him off, smacking his lips and pressing a kiss to the sharp jut of that hipbone, fuck, he didn't even _know_ why he was so hung up on the things.

He wasn't about to swallow the cum of some dude who he didn't even know was clean or not. It was hot to watch as Squall's head tipped back and he let out a whimper that had Cloud's hips fucking forward into nothing as he came. Squall held out a cupped hand to catch most of his semen, though, which was less hot… and somehow fucking hysterical.

Cloud chuckled through Squall finding the bin of felt and wiping off his hand, making a few _blegh_ noises. He giggled in a way he had not in a long time as Squall towed him in and eased him to the carpet, getting the back of Cloud's turtleneck covered in stray sequins from old craft projects and tiny shreds of woodchips brought in on the sneakers of second graders.

The laughter trailed off as Squall grabbed at his dick and pumped it. It transitioned to the occasional soft murmur of _Squall_ and deep, nearly-silent breathing that stopped altogether as he came, the only sounds being Squall's gentle, lewd encouragement.

They kissed for another couple minutes, lying there on the floor, cramped and uncomfortable and sequined and woodchipped, but content.

"Let's go," Squall said, getting them both to their feet. He straightened Cloud's clothes and let Cloud fix his.

Within ten minutes the first few kids came in. They gasped in delight at the decorations (kind of shitty, now that Cloud was seeing them with fresh eyes). Cloud waited nervously until three familiar faces appeared.

"Tifa?" he asked, beaming.

She looked sleepy—unsurprising, considering the bar had closed a little under six hours ago—but happy. Zack had Denzel's backpack over one shoulder and a loving grin ready for him. Denzel barely looked at Cloud; he was more interested in all the things they'd set up, and zoomed away from Zack and Tifa to go inspect everything.

"I didn't know you were coming," Cloud said, moving in to hug her. She leant against him tiredly and Cloud stroked her hair, making a goofy face at Zack, who nodded while hiding a smile.

"I heard you were putting all this hard work into decorating the room, so I wanted to see it. …Plus the heater is broken in my room, and I can't sleep."

"You'll take my bed," Cloud said firmly.

Tifa waved him off. "You did a pretty good job," she said.

Cloud snorted, and Zack put an arm around his shoulders. Squall's gaze locked with his across the room and Cloud offered a hesitant smile.

The moment passed. The three of them saw Denzel off (Zack grabbing a handful of his preferred chips on the way) and left the building. Another two caretakers were assisting with the mid-morning games, but Cloud had to get ready for work in the early afternoon.

After Zack had gotten in his car and left for work, Tifa thumped him on the back ( _ow_ ) as she got on the back of Fenrir. "Looks like things went well."

"Yeah." Cloud shrugged. "I think we might be dating, or something. Or will be."

Tifa's arms slid around his waist. She squeezed—but like a hug, and not because of necessity. "Guess it's time to start thinking about what to say to Zack."

That dread from earlier that morning pooled back in Cloud's stomach. "…Yeah," he answered. "Guess so."

* * *

By that evening Cloud's euphoria transformed into misery.

He sat in the dark apartment above the bar alone, staring unseeingly at a program he had not paid any attention to in the last half hour.

His dick throbbed; he could almost feel Squall's hand on it again. He'd been so _good,_ so talented and magnetic it was a wonder they'd ever made it out of that closet. Just thinking about him had Cloud's mouth watering. He'd kissed Cloud with all of the pent-up sexual frustration built since the beginning of the school year.

It was so great. Cloud's stomach clenched horribly and he moved to the bathroom, thinking maybe he had a catastrophic shit coming.

False alarm. He lay on the couch feeling curiously outside of his own body yet in control of it too. He thought of Squall's cock on his tongue and the nerdy glee he'd shown almost a month ago, telling him about Guardian Forces.

Cloud gotupwatchedhimselfgetup and went downstairs, then outside. He observedstraddled Fenrir and drovefollowed out of center city towards the edges of Midgar and the suburbs.

When Zack answered his knock Cloud came back to himself.

"—pretty late, are you okay?" Zack was saying.

"Yeah," Cloud answered, "Yeah."

Zack let him in. For years Cloud lived in this house; his feet led him to the living room, and to the couch.

"Denzel's upstairs?" He asked. "Wait—it's late, right."

"It's like eleven."

"I know." He hadn't.

Soft cotton pants and a tank top teased him. Zack looked cozy and about ready to sleep. "Sorry for bothering you," Cloud said. He ran a hand through his hair, frazzled, and moved back towards the door.

Zack reached out and touched his shoulder. "Hey, it's okay… You wanna sit down?"

Cloud eyed the couch. "Can we go upstairs, actually? Is that okay?"

It was a weird request, and Zack gave him an odd look, but he led Cloud to his bedroom on the second floor. This used to be Cloud's bedroom too. The mattress and bedframe were new (Cloud wondered if that was on purpose) and the bed was now pressed against a different wall, giving the room a whole different feel than it used to (Cloud already knew that was on purpose). None of his things rested on the dresser anymore. None of his clothes hung in the closet.

Zack lay down and Cloud joined him after shedding his jacket and kicking off his boots. Confusion was all over his face but he didn't say anything as Cloud got into bed. He wrapped his arm around Cloud's back and held him against his side, still quiet, breathing softly and steadily with all the warmth and sturdiness a Zack always offered.

"…Zack," Cloud sighed. His muscles gradually relaxed and now he was something of a puddle in Zack's arms. "Can we…?"

He tilted his head and ran his thumb over Zack's cheekbone. Those blue eyes were studying him. Cloud could only guess at what he was thinking. Zack let Cloud kiss him, and continued to let him.

Zack's stomach and sides were warm. Cloud kissed his belly button as he eased the tank-top off of his ex-husband. Cloud's movements were affectionate and sure. The last time they'd fucked it was so rushed and impassioned… this didn't lack any of the latter, but it was slower.

It was possible this was the last time, so Cloud wanted to savor it.

Zack's thighs had always been one of Cloud's favorite parts about him. In college he'd been on a club soccer team. They were muscular and strong. The hair covering them was soft and he dragged his lips across a strip of thigh, near the scar Zack had gotten when Denzel was a baby and he'd slipped on ice and cut himself on something.

Zack's knees. Cloud had seen them bruised and covered in dirt as he put in their mailbox after moving into their first real adult home. Zack had stood on his knees in the sand at the beach when Denzel was four and the three of them had built a sandcastle that took them most of the afternoon.

Cloud broke out of his reverence when Zack touched his cheek. "What are you doing?" he asked. He had a smile on his face but his eyes were concerned.

"I'm just…" Cloud swallowed thickly. He crawled back up Zack's body and straddled his thighs like he had Squall's earlier. "I don't know."

Their bodies fit together better. Or maybe Cloud just thought that was just because of the familiarity. Cloud already knew how Zack worked, sexually, and how he and Zack worked together.

(Mostly Cloud knew that he and Zack _didn't_ work together; that was the whole point of this whole thing. Of their whole lives these days. Still… he couldn't deny that it would be nice, sitting in Zack's lap like this, with Zack, _the better dad,_ as his husband still, and their son sleeping in the next room, and nobody with any plans to go anywhere else.)

Zack got him out of his clothes. He seemed a little intense too. His wide hands splayed on Cloud's chest and he sucked at his neck, making Cloud groan. Zack was leaving hickeys… normally Cloud would protest—but he wanted them. He really, really wanted them. Too bad they faded after a couple days.

They made out for a long time. They ground their bodies together and gasped and petted. Zack kissed the inside of his thighs and made tiny jokes as he prepped Cloud, like the old days. Cloud replied with deadpan one-word answers and tried to look like they weren't amusing him as much as they were, also like the old days.

Cloud wanted Zack on top of him and he wrapped his arms around Zack's neck and shoulders as Zack sank into him. The stretch, the slickness of it, the cooling lube on his ass, Zack's burning body above him—all of it was so _perfect,_ and so hot, and so wonderful…

Zack moved inside him. Cloud hated that he had to wear a condom now. His balls brushed affectionately against the curve of Cloud's ass and Cloud smiled into their kiss. If Zack stopped kissing him Cloud felt like he would fall apart—Gaia, how many times had he and Zack kissed in all the years they knew each other?

In their dorm rooms in college. When Cloud needed to be distracted after the death of his mother. After Tifa had given them the good news, about deciding to be their surrogate. After they saw the first ultrasound. After a doctor confirmed that Tifa's delivery had been safe and easy, with no complications. After they first brought Denzel home. On birthdays and vacations and on easy, relaxing nights at home… and even after the divorce, occasionally, when they needed each other.

How many times had he had Zack's cock inside him, or had his inside Zack? They'd fucked so much after they started dating. When Denzel was a baby their sex had been rushed and quiet, both sets of ears straining to hear crying coming from the crib in the next room or from the baby monitors. Cloud remembered wanting to fuck Zack once, when they were out star-gazing, but baby Denzel was with them and they'd jerked off together instead.

Had they fucked _enough,_ though? Zack thrust forward again, in just the way Cloud liked, his hard stomach rubbing against Cloud's cock. His hands were soft and so gentle on Cloud's skin.

It all ripped a sob from Cloud's throat.

If this was the last time they were ever gonna fuck—was it enough? Would anyone else _ever_ come to know his body as well as Zack did, right now? Were those hundreds of times enough to keep Cloud satisfied… for the rest of his life?

Fuck, for the _rest of his life_? A life without Zack like this, inside him and around him and kissing his lips and making him feel this good?

"Cloud."

"Zack," Cloud answered, the word coming out like gibberish.

" _Cloud_ ," Zack said again, more urgently. He pulled Cloud's forearm away from his eyes. He had been hiding. "Why are you crying?"

Zack pulled out, and Cloud sat up, whining in the back of his throat. _No—_

But Zack's erection had faded, and he was nearly soft. It wasn't possible anymore.

"I'm sorry," Cloud said, panicking slightly at his latest fuck-up. He swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand to hide the evidence and get Zack back into it.

"Just— _stop,_ for a sec."

Cloud stilled. Zack held his face and peered down at him, his messy hair hanging down around them and blocking out the rest of his (and no longer Cloud's) bedroom. He wiped the wetness away with his thumbs, his mouth turned down into a frown.

He wanted to know what was wrong. Cloud closed his eyes and let Zack take care of him for a minute. Zack peeled off his condom and gathered Cloud against his chest. Cloud was flaccid now too. Cloud cried into his neck some more, thinking about all the moments he'd had together with Zack.

Gaia, this was just like after the divorce all over again… immediately after there had been nothing but relief. It was _okay_ that he and Zack didn't have romantic feelings for each other. They could still be best friends, and they could still raise their son together. It was six or so months after the divorce that it set in that what he and Zack had while married, even if it wasn't true love, it had been really, really nice… and it was now lost.

But at least Cloud had never been in another relationship, and certain things (like sex, and affectionate platonic kisses) had still been available to him.

"I was thinking about the first time we fucked," Cloud said, when he found his voice.

"…Yeah?"

"Mmhmm. It was pretty bad."

"Hey! …Yeah, it was bad. But it was fun."

"It was a little bit of fun, I guess."

Zack continued to hold him, stroking his back and his hair and pressing kisses to his temple. Cloud was so fucking exhausted. "And I guess," he said, his voice shaky, "I was just thinking… about how much has changed." He trembled. "I'm so fucking scared of losing you, Zack."

They'd had this conversation fairly recently. Right before Cloud's date, if he remembered correctly.

Zack stilled, then kissed his mouth again. "Why are you so freaked out? You're not going to."

"I, I was, I don't know. If one of us meet someone new…"

"Are you talking about Angeal?"

"What?" Cloud shook his head. "No—we're allowed to have _friends_ , I just—I don't know." Cloud felt foolish for saying _I don't know_ so many times. "No one is ever gonna know me as well as you." Zack was his goddamn soulmate. It was time to confess—to one thing, but not the other. "Tifa says I'm not entirely over the divorce, a-and I think she's right. I keep thinking that even if nothing works out on my end _I'll always have Zack_ and that's not fair. I just… I can't even think about not having you around."

Zack's eyes had gone wide at _not entirely over the divorce._

"I don't love you," Cloud said.

It may have sounded cruel from two people in a different situation. Zack and Cloud just felt relief. "But at the same time," Cloud said, "I love you."

Platonically. As his best friend—as the guy who meant the most to him in this world.

Zack understood what he meant. He nodded his head. "I love you too."

Cloud wiped at his eyes again. "Sorry for being such a mess. I guess I just… needed some reassurance. If I start dating, or you start dating—we'll still be here for each other. Yeah?"

"Yeah." Zack nodded his head. "You promise?"

He sounded strangely scared. Poor guy still thought he had a chance with all of these failed dates…

"Promise." Cloud kissed him again to seal the deal.

Sex wasn't going to happen tonight. The two of them fell quiet, cuddled up tight, and started to slip into sleep.

Groggily, Zack reminded him, "Denzel."

"Yeah." Cloud set the alarm on his phone early enough so that he could sneak out before his son woke up.


	9. Chapter 9

_Note: this chapter is largely focused on a character dealing with depression. If this is a heavy topic for you please tread carefully. I can say, though, that there is no graphic content related to his depression and the emphasis is on offering a kind ear and any assistance required to important people who need it._

* * *

Squall Leonhart was a pretty decent guy. Zack thought so, at least. Denzel's kindergarten teacher was a nightmare, a woman who yelled at the poor kids (and a portion of the parents as well) for everything they did.

His first grade teacher was lovely. Really kind and encouraging. She pushed Denzel to work hard and to pursue the things that made him happy. Easy on the eyes, too.

Leonhart had that in common with her, Zack supposed. He sucked on the inside of his cheek as Denzel scrambled into his coat. Kid had too much energy at the end of the day. Mr. Leonhart was crouched and balanced on the balls of his feet as he bade one of his students goodbye, his eyes level with theirs.

 _Nice ass_ , Zack noted absently, looking him over. Eh. Dude wasn't his type. The sweater vests, the quirky cufflinks, the way he spoke, slow and encouraging to the kids in that little accented drawl—just not his thing.

A little too plain, perhaps. Zack craved a little adventure in his men. Still, Cloud seemed to really like the guy. Denzel recently told him that whenever his Daddy came to pick him up his teacher and Cloud would stay until everyone else left and they'd walk out to the parking lot together.

"What do they talk about?" Zack asked.

Denzel shrugged and said he never paid attention. _Kids,_ honestly. The worst gossips.

But whatever. Cloud was happy, Denzel was happy. Hell, Zack was happy; Mr. Leonhart was a nice dude, and Zack liked him. Second grade's teacher placement was another success like First grade's, Zack decided.

True, he was a little shy. Leonhart talked to him sometimes but Zack always had to initiate. It wasn't always that way but lately the guy looked kinda shifty and overwhelmed when they spoke.

Maybe it was the _guns_. Zack _had_ been working out a little more lately after Angeal told him how he got his arms so fantastically buff.

( _Mmm._ Angeal's arms.)

"Have a good weekend, Denzel," he said a minute later.

Denzel replied cheerily, "You too Mr. Leonhart!"

"He's got a busy one ahead of him." Zack dropped his hand to Denzel's head and mussed the spikes. His hair was so soft and had been since he was a baby. "We'll be working on that career project."

"Who are you going to talk to?"

"Our neighbor's friend," Denzel said, his sweet face suddenly so serious. "He photographs animals for the National Gaian Society."

"Oooh," Leonhart said, hands on his hips, sounding impressed. "That is very cool." Denzel nodded.

"Alright man, have a good one." Zack gave his usual charming two-fingered salute goodbye and Leonhart awkwardly returned it. Haha—that was funny. Zack held back a snort and led Denzel out of the building.

At a red light Zack glanced in his rearview mirror at Denzel, who was twisted around in his car seat to watch a dog being walked by a woman on the sidewalk. "You had a good week, Denz?"

"Mmhm. But next week we're staring our dinosaur unit."

"So next week is gonna be even better, you're saying?"

"Yep." Denzel loved dinosaurs—they were like, really extra cool animals.

"Try to get through this weekend first. We're gonna meet Mr. Myris at the National Gaian Society building and talk to him and Angeal over lunch, how cool is _that_?"

Denzel yelled, kicking his feet exuberantly against the back of Zack's seat, "COOL!"

"Oof—do you kick your Daddy when he's driving you on his motorcycle like that?"

"No!" Denzel sounded aghast. "Just you."

"Why I oughta," Zack grumbled, and his son laughed merrily.

As they eased into their driveway (and Zack's approach could be wider and easier of a turn now without the mailbox there) Denzel said, "I miss Shiva and Buster."

"Yeah…" Zack grabbed his briefcase and backpack and opened the back door for Denzel. "We haven't seen much of them this week."

Angeal's backyard was empty—no wagging tails or cold, wet tongues in sight. The front yard was in disarray; Zack spotted Angeal out there gardening a couple days ago but it seemed the guy abandoned the flowerbed project for a moment. Dirty hand-trowels sat in the grass along with a packet or two of seeds.

Zack frowned at Angeal's house, then steered his son inside.

Mid-morning Saturday Zack sat at the kitchen table guzzling the coffee his doctor didn't like him taking with his medications. "I'll go see what's up," he said as he placed his mug (World's Best Papa) back down onto the table. He ruffled Denzel's spikes as he walked past him and left his house.

His son looked uneasy. Zack crossed the tiny side yard and knocked on Angeal's door.

It was a long wait. Zack was actually on his way back to his own front door when Angeal's opened, just a couple inches at first, and then wider after a bleary eye peered at him.

"Oh, hey…" Zack turned around and took a few steps back. He frowned at his neighbor; the guy was supposed to have come over twenty minutes ago. Denzel was antsy.

Angeal looked like he had been asleep twenty minutes ago—and even as Zack had knocked. His hair was a mess; he was stubbled and in nothing but sleep pants. Zack's eyes didn't linger on his bared chest though—he was too busy taking in his face.

"Are you okay?" he asked, a little alarmed.

"…Yeah," Angeal said, rubbing his face with his cheek. His voice was rough. He shook his head after a moment and his gaze snapped up to lock with Zack's. "Shit—I overslept, I—"

Zack gently waved his hands. He stood awkwardly on the two smalls steps leading up to Angeal's tiny porch, one on the sidewalk and one on the step, torn between keeping a polite distance and going up to Angeal because the guy looked like _hell_. "It's okay, man… are you sick? If you're not feeling well don't worry about it."

"Yeah, I'm not feeling great," Angeal confirmed after a moment. "I'm sorry, Zack."

"Don't worry about it. A buncha guys at work are out with the flu. If you give me your friend's number I'll call him, no big."

"…Okay." Angeal didn't seem to have a fight in him. He gave Zack his buddy's number and Zack clapped him on the arm.

"Rest up," he said.

Angeal just nodded and went back inside.

Denzel was disappointed that Angeal was sick and not coming with them anymore, but the prospect of meeting a professional animal photographer kept him perky. They went downtown and ate lunch with a dude named Tiegan who knew Angeal from years back. Over pizza Denzel asked him all sorts of questions about his job and all the cool animals he'd seen, and he (with some help from Zack) filled out his answers on a worksheet Mr. Leonhart had given him. They then got a brief tour of the building, and Zack had to drag Denzel away from enormous blown-up images of tigers and tiny monkeys a couple times. The final part of the project was to draw a picture of yourself doing the occupation that you had selected, but Denzel could do that later with his crayons and colored pencils at home.

So Saturday's mid-morning was spent sitting at the kitchen table guzzling the coffee his doctor didn't like him taking with his medications.

Sunday's mid-morning was spent sitting at the kitchen table by himself with his hands cupped around the warmth of his otherwise-untouched mug. He felt a little dazed this morning… and it wasn't just the lack of caffeine.

Denzel was at his Dad and Tifa's place. Cloud came over the night previous to pick up their son and for some conversation. It had been rather one-sided.

Zack's big house was rather quiet, then, without Denzel's light-up boots stomping up and down the stairs or the music from the video games they liked to play drifting in from the living room. Zack padded barefoot through the house (his hand turning the knob on the closet door the mailbox was in, to check again for the umpteenth time that it was still locked) to the side that faced Angeal's house.

The seeds and trowels were still out front. The house was starting to look like a picture. Maybe he hadn't rustled his curtains around in a few days or opened any shutters, to keep it looking fresh and a little bit different each time Zack looked. No dogs out back.

He hoped Angeal was feeling better. The air was colder and colder these days. Tomorrow was the first day of December. Flu season would continue to rage for a while yet.

Sunday was uneventful. Zack did not do much. A marathon of a mediocre show was on and it kept him occupied for most of the day. He read a little bit of a book, and got some groceries after dinner when the worst of the Sunday rush was gone. The folks in this neighborhood always stocked up on things today to feed their families throughout the busy workweek.

He went to bed exhausted.

Monday's mid-morning had Zack spacing out in a meeting with the rest of HR. Tuesday's had his chin resting on his folded hands as he frowned at the back of his closed office door. Kunsel was waiting for him to text back about lunch plans. Their meal ended up being really good, and Zack kept the conversation away from anything personal. Wednesday's was spent interviewing a kid who just graduated MU, and they spent some time talking about their old alma mater which was nice even if Zack's heart wasn't in it.

At the end of the day he picked Denzel up from school. It was a quick in-and-out; he didn't stop to chat this time. When the two of them were out of the building and back in Zack's car he felt like he could breathe a little easier.

He asked as he pulled out of the parking lot, "…You have a good day, bud?"

Denzel had. He started rambling about the dinosaur unit they'd started, and how Mr. Leonhart had read a book about _dinosaur poop_ to them that said that some poops could be bigger than this car, Papa, _did you know that?_ At recess he and Marlene chased each other on the playground but Denzel was the T-rex and had to push his arms back into his puffy coat because their arms were so tiny and he hadn't really liked that. They roared like a Tyrannosaurus and a Brachiosaurus would—loud and terrible, and got a couple other kids to join them.

The stream of chatter continued all the way home. Zack smiled, hearing all these wonderful things going on in his son's life, but many of the specifics were lost to his ears; he was elsewhere. Denzel's sentence about the lunch Tifa packed him stopped short as he let out a yell once their house was in view.

"Another dinosaur roar?" Zack asked, squinting one eye shut as he parked.

"No!" Denzel kicked the back of his seat again. He stopped when Zack twisted around and gave him a _look_. "Sorry Papa," he said, small face frowning for a moment, but then he looked desperately out the window again. "Buster and Shiva are outside!"

So they were. Denzel unbuckled himself and scrambled out of his car seat. Zack gathered both their things, locked up, and ambled over to the fence much more slowly than his son had. Denzel was on his knees in the cold dirt, both hands stuck through the slats in the fence to pet Shiva's head. The greyhound was so thin that a good portion of her snout soon fit through the fence and she gave the giggling boy licks as he rubbed her neck.

"She's happy to see you."

"Mmhmm! I wish Buster would come over here."

The bigger dog hadn't moved from his spot on the small wooden deck. It wasn't fenced in; it was only a foot or so off the ground. Zack helped Angeal power wash and stain the thing back in October. He eyed them for a moment, then laid his massive head on his paws, staring dolefully at the rear sliding doors. He let out a deep woof.

"Hey, girl," Zack crooned, crouching himself. Shiva ticklishly licked his hand, and Zack wiped it with a _bleh_ on Denzel's coat.

Denzel growled, "Papaaa," and Zack danced away as Denzel tried to hug his waist. It was a cute act… but he'd just seen Shiva licking the side of Denzel's face like he was a bone. Nefarious little kid!

"Maybe Angeal will come out later," Zack said. "I haven't seen him in a while." The guy's car had been in and out at the beginning of the week, so Zack was pretty sure he was going to work.

With a last pet the two boys went inside. They did Denzel's homework together over a snack, and it triggered more rambles about dinosaurs. Zack did his best to keep up.

Sometime during dinner Buster started barking. When they finished eating he was still at it. It wasn't rushed, urgent barking… but it was steady, and constant. _Bark. Bark. Bark._ Deep and loud, and so clearly heard inside their house next door.

Denzel abandoned his dessert to press his face to the window that faced Angeal's house. "What's wrong with him?"

"I dunno." Zack stood behind Denzel and looked out the top part. Angeal's house still looked like a picture. It was hard to describe the feeling he got from it. _Bark. Bark. Bark._ Shiva ran circles in the grass, tearing it up and sending dirt flying.

A weak little sniff met Zack's ears. "Hey…" he crouched and put his hand on Denzel's shoulder. His son turned to look at him. His big brown eyes looked worried, and perhaps a little scared.

Zack took it all in. God, his kid was beautiful—he'd never get over it, or how much he resembled Tifa. He stroked his thumb over Denzel's cheek, trying to soothe him. "I'll go check it out," he said. _Bark. Bark. Bark!_

Denzel nodded, and before he could ask Zack said, "Stay here, okay Bud?"

Zack put his coat on again and left. Denzel watched him from that same window, his palms pressed flat to the glass and his nose too. Zack struck a pose with a thumbs-up and a cheerful grin, and it earned him a smile.

Zack hadn't said what he was thinking—maybe something had happened to Angeal. Something bad.

Shiva came up to him at the gate of the fence and stuck her nose through the wood, trying to get more pets. Zack ignored her for the moment. Reaching through the slats to unlock the gate didn't work; he supposed that was the point. Zack glanced back at Denzel, who still watched.

Well—observer or not, Zack had to do something a little illegal. He took off his coat and tossed it over the top of the fence, about as high as his head. The little points there would be rough on his hands otherwise. He took a step back then jumped up, using the momentum to help propel himself upwards. Zack let out a grunt of exertion and his arms strained but he managed to hoist himself up and over the fence. God, he hoped none of the other neighbors saw that.

 _Bark! Bark! Bark!_

Once on the ground again (his landing was a little shaky; he'd have to cancel his grand plans for a career in gymnastics, _darn_ ) he sent Denzel another thumbs-up and then jogged over to Buster.

"What's wrong dude?" he asked, wincing slightly at the volume. Buster stood up, his paws heavy on the deck, and gave a deep whine. He pushed his heavy head against Zack's leg and then scratched at the back door. These were glass and slid open and closed on tracks. If they were latched and locked there was no way in.

Zack felt awkward about it. Guess it was hard to have a doggy door installed into glass. "Um… you hungry or something?" he asked, and his voice was bullshit even to his own ears.

No, Buster was concerned about his owner. Zack glanced around—he didn't see any neighbors, but who knew. He waved in the direction of his own house in case Denzel was standing on a chair or something to peer over the fence at the deck, and grasped at the edge of the door. It opened smoothly—unlocked.

Buster nearly knocked Zack over in his haste to get inside. His pounding footfalls faded as the dog moved deeper into the house. Shiva darted past him as well. Zack closed the doors behind him. The back of the hallway led into them. He passed the kitchen and stopped short. It was a terrible mess. Cooking pots, bowls, cutlery and cups spilled out of the sink and onto the surrounding counters. There was even a tub of ice cream, long since melted, out on the kitchen island where Zack had found Sephiroth and Genesis eating all the food at the Halloween party.

"What…?" Zack heard from the living room.

Angeal was awake—that was good… but did that mean he had _heard_ Buster making that horrible racket, and just hadn't let him inside?

"Angeal," Zack called, not wanting to startle the man.

The reply took a moment. "Zack?" He heard movement, and as Zack entered the living room Angeal came out of it, and they nearly crashed into each other.

Zack eyed him. The mess in the kitchen cemented what he'd thought, and Angeal's appearance pretty much confirmed it. The stubble was now a short beard, and his hair, usually soft and lush looking, was sticky with oil and plastered to the sides of Angeal's head. He only wore briefs and a tank top. And… he smelled, though Zack wasn't going to say that.

"You're not sick with the flu," Zack said. That much was obvious. He swallowed, now awkward that he was standing in front of his neighb— _friend_. "I'm sorry for breaking in—Buster was barking, and Denzel and I got worried."

"That's… okay."

Poor Angeal looked mortified. "Sorry about the mess, I've been meaning to get to it. And sorry about Buster, I, uh—"

Zack tripped over his words too as he tried to convey that Angeal didn't need to be worried about any of that. They sputtered niceties at each other, and were interrupted as Buster pushed himself between their legs, sending them both off-balance.

The dog gently head-butted Angeal's hand until he held it out, and then dropped a spitty cell phone into it.

Buster then laid down on Angeal's feet. He stared at the wall, but Zack could tell Buster was paying attention to Angeal.

Angeal was quiet for a moment, then let out a soft chuckle. It was a hollow sound, with no actual amusement in it. "I'm sorry, Zack," he sighed.

"Don't be. Tell me what you need."

Angeal closed his eyes, shook his head. "I don't know," he said, and sounded so lost it squeezed Zack's heart. He almost reached out to hug the guy. Gaia—being sick with the flu was so much more straightforward than _depression_ ; Zack wasn't sure how to fix this. There weren't straightforward 'fixes' like with a bad cough or a temperature.

Buster continued breathing in that heavy, slightly raspy way he did, resolutely not moving off of Angeal's feet.

"…Thanks, Buster," Angeal murmured. He wiped the phone off on his tank-top. As he pressed a button the screen lit up; Zack could see many notifications the man was ignoring. "He knows it's time for me to call someone," Angeal said. "When I can't take care of myself. He's trained for that."

Zack didn't know what to say. He didn't know if anything he said would make it better, or worse. He didn't know how to convey that he really didn't care about the mess or Angeal's appearance—he just cared about the guy at the center of it all. A _lot_.

So he just watched quietly as Angeal dialed a number, then held the phone to his ear. "Genesis," he greeted. His voice was quiet—he couldn't have liked Zack hovering a foot in front of him. Zack snapped out of it and gave him his space.

Shiva let out a whine from the kitchen. Her food bowl was empty, and she ran between Zack's legs as he got out her food. He'd been over enough times to know how Shiva's diet worked. Her body couldn't process a couple kinds of grain in virtually all dog foods. It had been too expensive keeping her at the rescue she'd been in and the place desperately sought someone willing to save a dog that was pricier to take care of than most.

Zack fed her, running his hand down the length of her spine as she ate. Angeal's low voice travelled through the quiet house. Zack felt like an awful intruder… but at the same time, the thought of leaving Angeal in this sat badly with him too. He put some generic food in Buster's bowl and waited until the call wrapped up before going back to him.

Angeal stared at the phone in his hand. "Genesis is coming over," he said. "You don't have to worry about me. Sorry for the trouble. You can go."

"I… I'd like to stay," Zack said. "If my presence won't make things worse, I mean. I've missed you this past week, and…"

It was too hard to tell if that came out needier than he'd meant it to, or if Angeal understood what he was trying to say. He didn't respond to it either way, because Buster moved off his feet. The Newfoundland went to the bottom of the stairs and turned his head, staring at Angeal with his big blue eyes.

"He wants me to go upstairs," Angeal said.

They both followed. Buster led them up and to the master bathroom connected to Angeal's bedroom. He barked again and laid down in front of the door.

Zack's shoulders tightened uncertainly. Angeal was smiling, though—weakly, but he looked touched. "Guess I have to take a shower now," he said. He looked at Zack.

"Thanks for checking in on me. I was going to let the two of them inside eventually, but I just…"

"I get it," Zack said. He could picture Angeal lying on the couch, staring at that same TV marathon Zack had watched the other day, letting those barks go in one ear and out the other. Action was hard, sometimes.

Angeal rummaged through his dresser for clothes. Some were sticking out of the drawers or pooled on the ground, and the bed was a mess. There were food containers on the bedside table, like he'd been unable to get out of bed at all, and just ate there… "You don't have to stay, really," he said.

Zack swallowed. "Angeal. I have trouble tellin' sometimes when people are just being polite or not. If you want me to go I'll go. But if you're saying that and secretly hoping I'll stay, just say so, man. I want to stay so long as you're cool with it. I can fuck off once Genesis gets here if you want, or…"

Angeal's face twisted up in all kinds of conflicting emotions. "I… I'd like it if you could stay. But it's really okay if you can't—"

"I'm staying." Zack said it firmly. Maybe Angeal had problems feeling like he was a burden to people in a depressive episode. He wasn't—and even if he was, Zack was the type of person to bear heavy ones for the people he cared about. It was unclear where or when Angeal crossed that threshold, but he had, and here he was feeling like shit and needing a friend. There was no question whether Zack would put in the effort.

He told Angeal he'd wait downstairs and the man closed the door to the bathroom. Zack hesitated in the doorway. He asked Buster, "You gonna come back down with me?" The dog just yawned and continued to lie down on his big belly and wait for Angeal.

Zack moved back through the house and out to the backyard. Denzel wasn't in the window anymore, but he came right to the door as Zack opened it.

"Is Buster okay?"

"Yeah." Zack dropped to his knees and drew Denzel in for a hug. He was chilly, having crossed their yards in just his t-shirt, snagging his coat off the top of the fence on his way back. Denzel's face was warm tucked against his skin.

Denzel asked, after his small arms wound around Zack's neck, "…Is Angeal okay?"

"Not really, Denzy." Zack pulled back and cupped Denzel's face in his hands. He bopped the tip of his nose with his thumb, making his worried expression shift into a small smile for a moment. "You remember when we talked about depression?"

"Yeah. Angeal has it. It's why he has Buster."

"It looks like it's acting up pretty bad. Buster was barking because he knew Angeal was really sad inside his house."

"Oh no…"

The empathy in kids, it was astounding. "Sometimes when someone is depressed it becomes really hard to take care of themselves. Their house might become a big mess, or they might not feel like feeding themselves, or they might not get out of bed for a long time because getting up and doing things is overwhelming, you know? Angeal's house is kind of a mess… I was wondering if you'd want to help us clean up a bit, and make him feel a little better."

Without stopping to think about it Denzel nodded, then hurried out of Zack's grip to grab his coat. Zack put his back on and held out his hand for Denzel to take. They left together, Zack's heart bursting with pride, and went back in the gate Zack had left unlocked.

"Where is Angeal?" Denzel asked as they entered the house. He spoke in a whisper.

"He's taking a shower upstairs. Buster made him." Denzel smiled and Zack ruffled his hair.

Denzel moved inside Angeal's house with as much familiarity as Zack did. He'd told Angeal once that he liked how similar their houses were, because it meant that if he ever slept over again and needed a snack in the middle of the night he wouldn't get lost.

Shiva was happy to see him. Denzel sat on the kitchen floor and pet her belly, the puppy flopped on her back across his thighs. He didn't play with her for long though, and was back with his father quickly. There weren't bugs crawling over the dishes which was a huge relief. Further downtown that would have been an issue. Denzel didn't really comment on the mess, other than, "What should I do?"

"Can you scrape off the bowls and stuff into the trashcan for me? Then I can wash them."

The two boys got to work. Denzel took his job so seriously, accepting each dirty dish without a peep of protest. Back at home Denzel always complained about this sort of thing—even cleaning off his own plate after dinner irritated him. The trash can was almost overflowing when they started so Zack bagged it and the recycling and moved it out to the back deck while Denzel tried to get new bags into the cans. He almost managed it.

The faint sound of running water from upstairs soothed Zack. As the disaster in the kitchen slowly disappeared he felt even better. Denzel eventually switched to drying dishes, his small mouth turned down into a deep frown of concentration as he ran soft hand towels over everything in the drying rack. Zack replaced it all in the correct cabinets.

"Has he been sad for a while?"

"I'm not sure. You remember how he couldn't make it to our meeting with Mr. Myris last weekend? We thought he was sick with the flu? I think he may have been feeling sad then. Before that, I dunno. He seemed okay last Tuesday when he invited us over for dinner."

"Yeah." Denzel ran the towel over the tongs of a handful of forks. "He makes cheeseburgers better than you do."

"Hey!"

They moved the trash can over to the island to clean up the ice cream. Zack held it up to the edge and Denzel pushed the sodden container into it. It was a sticky, goopy, multicolored mess. They mopped it up with paper towels and Denzel griped, "I hate melted ice cream."

"I know you do—and how Tifa sticks hers in the microwave for a couple seconds so the bottom's all melty."

They heard footsteps coming back down the stairs. Denzel tucked himself behind Zack's leg, maybe a little shy. Zack could only wonder what the kid was thinking about seeing Angeal in a moment of weakness. Angeal looked so much better now that he was clean and shaven. Buster seemed satisfied enough to abandon his guard duty for a moment and push past him to his food bowl.

"I brought Denzel over," Zack said, "I hope that's okay."

His son's voice was quiet, but he said all the same, "I want to help."

Angeal ran his fingers through his damp hair. It was all pushed off his forehead and the tops of his shoulders were wet, light blue fabric now a little darker. "That's alright," he sighed. "I'm glad to see you, Denzel. I'm sorry for the mess."

"Papa and I are cleaning it up. So you don't have to be sorry for anything."

Zack bit his lip to stop the bottom one from giving his sudden rush of tearful pride away. Angeal came over to them. "I can't let you two clean it all on your own. I'll help."

Denzel looked like he was going to say something else, but he seemed to understand Angeal was embarrassed. He dropped it.

They swept and mopped the floor. Zack sprayed a cleaner from a bottle on the countertops and wiped it all down. The other rooms didn't look great either… but when the kitchen was done the house seemed to breathe a little easier. Angeal as well. He thanked him, rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks stained a little pink in shyness or in shame. Zack didn't want to see either emotion.

"Please! We owe you after all the delicious meals you've made us, right Denz?"

"Uh-huh!" Denzel nodded vigorously.

A knock at the door brought Angeal away and Zack crouched to look Denzel in the eye. "What do you think?"

"I think he does look really sad."

"I think so too. You're okay, though? It must be kinda weird seeing your friend like this."

Denzel shrugged. "Marlene gets sad sometimes. This is just worse than that."

Zack nodded. Seven year-olds. Genesis was here, and he and Angeal stood just inside the doorway.

"Thanks for coming," Angeal said. He leant his cheek into Genesis's hands as the redhead cupped both of them.

"Of course. How are you, dearest?"

Genesis' voice was so full of love. Zack liked Sephiroth a lot but for a brief moment he kind of wished he and Angeal were still in a relationship—it was just so clear that he cared so fiercely for their friend. He kissed both of Angeal's cheeks and then his forehead and nose.

Denzel didn't blink at the affection or at Angeal's shaky answer: "Really shitty."

"Good thing you called me then." Genesis kissed him again, this time a peck on the lips. "How many days did it take you to finally do so?"

"A couple," Angeal answered, tilting his face towards the carpet. "You've got Buster to thank for that."

"Oh, drat, I left my massive dog bones in my other coat."

Zack could tell Angeal was smiling without seeing his face. Genesis peeked over Angeal's shoulder and saw the other two. "Zack," he greeted, smiling now.

Their pseudo-enemies shtick finally fizzled out sometime in mid-November. Genesis stepped past Angeal, looking intimidating in his long red peacoat and black scarf. He put his hands on his hips. Red leather gloves. "And just _who_ is this young man?"

Zack grinned. "This is Denzel. I've told you about him."

Genesis rubbed his chin. "Riiiight. This is the kid who _hates animals,_ right? Of course. I remember our conversations about him now."

"No way." Denzel shook his head. He was a little shy but smiling now as well. "I love them. You broke our mailbox and yelled at us."

Genesis brought a dramatic hand to his heart and slumped. "Of course he remembers that!"

Upon finding out that Angeal hadn't eaten since an orange and an apple for breakfast Genesis declared that he was making him dinner. Zack felt good knowing that the kitchen was serviceable now. He, Denzel and Angeal settled onto the living room couch. Buster hopped up onto the couch too, with some groaning from Angeal and delighted laughter from Denzel, and laid down across Angeal's legs.

"He never lets me off the hook," Angeal grumbled. He glanced at Denzel. "But I don't really mind. He takes care of me."

"He's the best Emergency Supports Dog." Denzel scritched behind Buster's ears.

"Emotional Support Dog," Angeal gently corrected. "He's smart. He knows that I'm supposed to call a friend if I'm feeling down. He got my cell phone for me earlier so I could call Genesis."

"He did?"

"He did. It was all drooly."

Denzel wrinkled his nose a bit and laughed. He bent and kissed the top of Buster's head. Even Zack had a hand on the big dog, digging his fingers into his haunches. The three of them fell quiet, petting and thinking. It was getting late, and Denzel had school the next day, but the kid looked like he was where he needed to be.

Zack reached out and curled his hand over Angeal's forearm. There were so many things he could say. "Thanks for letting me stay, even though you probably wanted to be alone," he decided on.

"I thought I wanted you to go away, but thinking about it now, I didn't. I'm glad you stayed."

They smiled softly at each other. Zack rubbed his thumb across Angeal's skin, feeling the soft hairs against the pad of it. He moved his hand when Genesis entered the room, platefuls of pasta for Angeal and himself in hand. "Did you two eat?" he asked.

"Yeah, we did. You still hungry Denz?"

"Nope. Thank you." So polite—Zack grinned.

"I'm good too. But thanks Gen."

Angeal pushed Buster until the dog oozed off his lap and onto his feet on the floor. His shirt was covered in thick black hairs and he let out an amused sigh. Zack wrapped his arm around Denzel's waist and tugged the kid onto his lap as he watched the two men eat. Genesis changed the channel to something a bit more entertaining than the same endless show that was marathoning but no one paid it all that much attention.

Denzel let his father cuddle him. He tucked his head against Zack's shoulder and asked during a lull in the conversation, "Are you two dating?"

Genesis coughed around a noodle. "No," he answered, and gave Angeal's shoulder a gentle smack. "I'm married and have a husband—his name is Sephiroth."

"Ohh, Papa mentioned Sephiroth before."

"Mm. He's a wonderful man with very silly hair. You would like him. He's shy around animals and needs someone to teach him."

Denzel thought for another minute. Then: "But you kissed earlier."

Genesis made eye contact with Zack; he looked concerned. Zack shrugged and gave a goofy smile. Denzel could handle whatever Genesis had to say about the topic. He sounded simply curious and not judgmental. Genesis' shapely brows drew together as he thought. "For a lot of people," he began, "Kissing means romance. Especially kissing someone on the mouth. But not always. Angeal and I once had a conversation that went something like, 'Hey, you're my best friend, and I love you in a friend way. Are you okay with kissing sometimes, in a non-romantic way?' 'Yeah, that sounds really cool—pucker up!'" Genesis blew Denzel a raspberry and the kid giggled. Like most kids his age romantic stuff grossed him out, but he did a great job handling what all those adults in his life did anyway.

Denzel didn't know about them, but Zack wondered how his kisses with Cloud these days could be categorized.

Urk.

"And Sephiroth said it was okay as well. We don't do it often, or anything."

Denzel seemed to understand, and Zack thought maybe the questions would cease. But his curious son asked Angeal a minute later, "Why are you so sad?"

Zack's grip on him tightened. "Sorry," he said, even as Angeal was already waving him off.

"It's fine."

Zack looked at his neighbor. So did Denzel and Genesis too, just waiting.

"Is it… something with your Ex?"

Angeal tucked some hair behind his ear. It was nearly all dry now, and back to its pretty dark sheen. "No," he answered, and that surprised Zack. Angeal's Ex was a major source of Angeal's present mental health situation, from what he understood. They'd broken up and it was really bad…

"This has nothing to do with her. There isn't always an incident that triggers a depressive episode. I've been dealing with this my whole life… and sometimes it's just worse than other times."

"I'm sorry," Zack apologized, "I was oversimplifying things." He felt awful.

"That's alright."

Angeal poked at his food and looked at his plate instead of any of them. "But to answer your question Denzel, I'm not sure. For me, it's usually like… I have trouble caring. About anything. I have a hard time feeling happy, yeah. But also sadness, or fear, or excitement. I don't feel much of anything when I'm like this."

"Oh." Denzel pressed himself more firmly against Zack's chest.

"So I try to do things that usually make me happy, like gardening or photography, and when they don't cheer me up I get frustrated. Or sometimes it feels like I'm not really inside my own body, and everything I see and everything I feel is miles away or behind a bunch of thick glass. I'm feeling a little bit of that right now, like I'm not really sitting on the couch with my friends, even though I _know_ I am and that frustrates me even more."

Genesis rubbed his socked feet against Angeal's calf and then stretched both legs out over his lap. Grounding him. Those were some symptoms of disassociation, Zack knew.

"So it gets very hard to care about anything, like whether I'm hungry or whether the house is becoming a mess. It's not just that I'm crying all the time, or anything. …I'm sorry to lecture you, Denzel, you didn't ask for a sermon."

Angeal looked embarrassed again. "That's alright," Zack answered. "Denz asked, and he wanted the real answer. Because he cares. Right?"

"Right. Papa—may I please have your keys?"

 _May I please._ Nearly unheard of in the Denzel Strife vocabulary. "Um, the keys?"

"I want to get something from our house."

"I'll go with you."

"Papaaaa." Denzel put a whine in his voice and looked away from Angeal and Genesis. " _Please_?"

Zack swallowed. Fuck, Denzel was getting so old, and so quickly too. "…Okay. Don't forget to lock the door behind you when you leave, and make sure the keys are in your hand. I already broke into one house today." Zack procured them from his pocket. Denzel grabbed them and scampered off; Zack heard the front door open and close.

He watched from the window, of course.

"He's adorable," Genesis called and Zack grunted back an affirmative. Denzel was taking a long time at the door… probably mistakenly trying the key to every box, office and conference room Zack could get into. Eventually he made it inside.

Behind him Genesis was saying, "I assume you have things squared away at work."

"Yeah. I managed a couple days as I felt this coming on. Yesterday was the first I didn't go in. I'm taking sick hours and I'm going to try to get some emails out by the end of the week."

Zack hadn't really thought about it before… about how it would work with hours and payroll when you couldn't bring yourself to get out of bed. As the HR Hiring Manager he should know more about it. He made a note.

He saw a dark shape emerge from the house. _Please don't lock us out,_ Zack prayed. He let his son in the front door and smiled widely at both the keys in his chilly hands and the plate carefully held between them.

Denzel brought it to Angeal, who accepted and blinked slowly at the massive sticky bun.

"Tifa made them for us," Denzel said, and sat on the floor next to Buster. It was gooey and warm (had the kid put it in the microwave briefly before running it over in the cold?) and covered and pecans and a thick sugary glaze. "Your ice cream melted so I got you some dessert. I had one after dinner. It might make you feel happy."

"Aww," Genesis said, demurely covering his grinning mouth with his hand.

Angeal set aside the plate, pushed Genesis' legs to the ground, and reached for Denzel. It looked like he was going to hug him… but changed his mind and noogied the kid instead, making him laugh and squirm. It was—fatherly, the way he did it.

"I think I'm feeling happier than before, you little brat."

Denzel looked pleased.

* * *

Dropping Denzel off and picking him up from school the next day was awkward. He avoided Leonhart's eyes and it was incredibly easy to do so—perhaps the guy wasn't so keen on talking to him either. Whatever. He got in, got Denzel, and got out with his kid none the wiser to any adult drama.

They popped into their house for only long enough to grab a snack. Angeal let them in, smiling indulgently when Zack said, "We're back to bother you some more. No arguments."

"Sephiroth is here."

They found the man sitting on the couch, squished under Buster's weight and with Shiva asleep in a half-sitting position, her upper body leaning against his shin. For a dude who was a little iffy on pets they sure as hell loved _him_.

"Good to see you again man," Zack said. Sephiroth spread out his hands in a helpless gesture. "Zack. I would stand to greet you, but I doubt I am moving anytime soon."

"Haha. Don't sweat it—it's hard to argue with Mr. Hewley, the dog one."

"The human version as well."

"Heh, yeah. Denzel—this is Sephiroth." Denzel waved shyly at the man. "Genesis's husband, remember?"

He nodded. Sephiroth fixed Denzel with a stare. It was a heavy one, Zack knew (heavier than Buster, even?). Even sitting and with a giant dog lounging on him Sephiroth had such a _presence_ to him. It could have been the eyes or the (silly) long ponytail draped over the back of the couch, or his broad yet lean frame. "It's good to meet you Denzel," he said.

Denzel nodded and pushed his face into the fabric covering Zack's belly.

They talked. They ordered pizza. They all helped Denzel with his homework and then bundled up on the back deck to play fetch with the dogs who were ecstatic to get outside and run around.

And throughout this, Angeal was quiet—his smiles didn't reach his eyes and he stood still and watched rather than throw Shiva's favorite ball himself. He seemed a thousand miles away… but not millions.

The next day. Both the Rhapsodoses were there and they all worked in the garden edging the dirt and clearing out old, gross mulch. There was not much one could do in the winter around here but if anyone could find a way to keep occupied with their garden in the winter it was Angeal. He seemed the same as the past couple days. It was a little discouraging for a moment before Zack remembered that depression wasn't about 'snapping out of it' at all. It was a constant struggle… to find the things that brought you peace, and to listen less and less to inner voices that challenged that. To ride the waves of emotion more skillfully over time and to get back on your board every time a wave crashed over you—to not let go of it, to keep it in your grasp.

Denzel sensed his work wasn't done, but he was supposed to get dropped off at Cloud and Tifa's later that evening, Friday, and stay the weekend. He asked Zack if he could stay.

Zack pulled out his phone and turned it over in his hands. Cloud's entry in his contacts list was pulled up.

"…Hey," he said after a minute. "I think you should call your dad instead. It'll show you really mean it. He'll be impressed, I think."

So Denzel called and not him. Zack listened to his soft voice explain that Angeal had depression (kids constantly overshared) and that Denzel wanted to stay and help cheer him up.

Who could say no to that?

Zack grinned as Denzel handed him his phone back, but his smile faded as he realized the call hadn't ended.

"Hello?"

"Zack—I know you're mad at me. I'm sorry you're upset. But I had to tell you. I—"

"I can't really stay and chat, Spike," Zack said loudly, grinning again at Denzel so he'd feel like he could go away. "We're about to take the dogs around the block."

"…Okay." Cloud knew what he was doing. His ex-husband sounded frustrated… but understanding, too, so _understanding_ it _killed_ him. "I'm sorry to hear Angeal is having a rough time."

"…Yeah. He's okay though. We're taking care of him. Denzel especially… he's such a great kid, Cloud. I'm really proud of him right now."

"Yeah," Cloud agreed—and the way he and Denzel always said it was so similar. "I'm glad to hear that."

"Anyway." Zack coughed around a lump in his throat. "We'll talk later."

"Okay. Bye."

Genesis and Sephiroth both had things to do over the weekend and so did not stop by. Their presence, while appreciated, wasn't necessary anymore. Angeal didn't need parents—just friends. Buster made sure he ate at least once a day (the dog would bite his shirt and pull him in the direction of the kitchen if he hadn't been in there at all), and keeping his dogs fed usually ended up with him eating something too since he was in the kitchen anyway. Angeal had never struggled with any urges to self-harm and was in no danger; he just benefited so much from other presences nearby.

That was why he got Buster. So much of the dog's job was just _being there_ —what Angeal needed most was to feel cared for at his lowest, even if just by a dog. Buster gave him responsibilities, too; he had to be fed and get exercise every day, getting him out of bed and into some fresh air. Being needed did wonders for him.

That wasn't to say that Zack and Denzel hanging around wasn't a help. Angeal didn't always feel like talking, but he liked sitting and watching Denzel play on his game console he'd lugged over from next door. Sometimes he would stretch his legs out over Zack's lap, smiling softly into the neck of his t-shirt, and Zack would compose emails with his laptop balanced on the man's shins. Zack practiced more recipes of Angeal's and moved around the kitchen with Angeal's eyes on his back. The man would sit at the island and talk to Denzel about how second grade was going.

Inevitably this brought up Leonhart. Zack did his best.

But despite that, the time spent with Angeal at the end of that week and that weekend was precious. Zack knew he was, if not needed, then appreciated. Being appreciated did wonders for him.

Denzel spent all Sunday afternoon playing with the dogs in the backyard. He played tug-of-war with Shiva until the knotted rope was gooey with dog spit and the puppy dug even more marks into the yard where her feet scrabbled in the dirt. He pet Buster's belly until his arms got sore, the huge dog lounging on his back with his legs spread out, tongue lolling. He chased the dogs in circles until their excited barks and his laughter bounced off the fence and surrounding houses.

Not five minutes passed after he went inside before he was asleep on Angeal's couch. Shiva curled up into a ball on the cushion by his head and Buster kept watch from the carpet, letting out a wide, drooly yawn before snoozing too. All three tuckered themselves out.

Smiling, Angeal covered Denzel with a throw blanket. He and Zack grabbed beers and brought chairs out to the back deck.

There wasn't much to see—endless suburbia, perhaps. Just past the fence at the end of Angeal's yard was an identical yard, just with a different fence for that household's dogs. That family had an in-ground pool installed and Denzel often said he wished he was friends with them so that he could swim in it in the summer, but they were all teenagers.

Gaia. Zack remembered them being in middle school when the three of them moved in.

"Zack," Angeal murmured, and the younger man shook his head before looking over at him. The sun was setting and the shadows made Angeal's face look more gaunt than it was. He looked warm in his coat though, and pretty content to sit with Zack out here in what had been comfortable silence. "Forgive me for prying, but you've been quiet. Are you alright?"

"Oh, heh. I have?" Zack took a sip of his beer and crossed one leg over the other. He rubbed the back of his neck with chilly fingers. "Sorry."

"Since Wednesday." The day Zack had hopped the fence and discovered Angeal was having a depressive episode. "I'm sorry if seeing me like this is upsetting you—"

"No, no, that's not it," Zack reassured. He looked into Angeal's eyes to show he meant it. "Nah, it's some shit that happened last weekend, I guess. It's been on my mind this whole time."

"Mm." Angeal nodded, looking a little relieved but like he was trying not to show it. He was waiting… waiting for Zack to open up and tell him if he wanted. Zack could tell.

The two men sat for a while longer. There was a soft breeze that smelled like winter. Technically it was the end of fall still. There was a tree in Zack's backyard Denzel liked to climb, and there were only a few leaves left on it. Some of the branches poked over the fence into Angeal's and Zack had been doing a job of raking them while his neighbor was outside to let him past the gate.

Zack took another sip of his beer. "It's Cloud," he said eventually. "Came over last weekend to tell me that he's in a relationship now."

The surprise on Angeal's face was easy to see—his immediate concern, too. Zack laughed though his heart wasn't in it and stretched out both legs, his toes pointed out towards the pool. "Yep. You know what the situation with Cloud was…" The occasional fucking, the awkwardness of exploring their platonic but sexual feelings for each other while the memory of romantic ones still lingered. It was possible to get fooled like that. To let memories trick you into thinking those feelings still existed, or could exist again, even though your rational mind knew better.

"And it's funny," Zack said, chuckling again, an empty sound, "A couple weeks ago he came over late at night. He was all shook up and I knew something was wrong. And one thing led to another and then we fucked—but not for long, because he started crying and I can't be hard while he's all upset, you know?"

Zack was rambling now, and Angeal just nodded along, his mouth twisted in thought. This was all grossly TMI probably but Zack didn't really care. "And in the past couple months I guess both he and I have been doin' a lot of thinking about what's gonna happen to us when either of us moves on. First I got scared of losing him, and then he said he's freaked out about losing me—and then he says that he's not totally over the divorce, and that blew me away, 'cause I thought if anyone out of the two of us wasn't _over the divorce…_ it'd be me."

Zack blinked rapidly, feeling himself on the verge of tears. He pressed the cool edge of the beer can to his trembling lips.

"Cloud's just… I've told you as much already. He always seemed so cool about it. This whole time he hasn't even been looking for anybody; he doesn't do the whole dating thing like I have been, and I just… I guess I thought he'd never get anywhere, or at least… not until after I found someone first." That was a shitty thing to say. It was an honest thing to say.

"And you know, at the end of that night I felt pretty good, even if it was all a bit confusing." He'd gotten reassurance that Cloud loved him and that he loved Cloud. Platonically. As his best friend—as the guy who meant the most to him in this world. "And we promised we'd still be there for each other if we started dating, and I thought…"

Zack shook his head, chuckling breathlessly again. He'd been thinking of Angeal in that moment. That when he and Angeal started dating he and Cloud would still be cool—Cloud, although single, wouldn't be jealous or frustrated with him and their friendship would stay just as strong. But he looked like a fucking idiot now—Cloud had been talking about himself. He'd come over because he was scared about his own situation.

"I know Cloud," Zack sighed, after another moment. He drained the last of his beer and gently placed the can on the wooden boards. He folded his hands in his lap and looked at the last of the leaves hanging onto those tree branches. "He must have just solidified things—maybe went from flirting to an actual date, or maybe he hooked up. And that was it. He was about to hit the point of no return, to really commit to someone—and it freaked him out. So he came to me one last time."

Out there in the chilly air like that, Zack's words sounded pathetic. It got worse: "And guess who it is, Angeal?" Zack glanced at him and laughed again, this time more genuinely, because it was _actually really funny._ "Denzel's teacher—'Mr. Leonhart.' They probably have been flirting this entire year so far, while I picked the kid up from school or dropped him off. And I guess I sound really bitter about it but I'm not. I'm happy for Cloud. He said he's having a really good time with the guy when he came by to tell me about it. It just sucks. And knowing that he was so torn up about finally dating another guy that it made him come over for one last fuck and _wept_ about it, 'cause that's how sad he was about puttin' an end to what me and him had goin'… that makes me feel good, too, in a weird way. Like it really did mean a lot to him. We promised each other we'd stay here after we move on to other people, and I'm stickin' to that—but it just sucks, right now, it _really fucking sucks_."

Zack blinked again—his eyes had begun tearing up once more. His chest heaved; he calmed after a couple seconds conscious effort. "I'm ranting at you. I, ah, ranted at you. Sorry for the rant, man."

He grabbed the back of his neck and smiled bashfully at Angeal. Gaia knew the guy didn't need to deal with his bullshit on top of his own. He didn't need to shoulder Zack's all-consuming and ever-present angst about his Ex… he had issues with his own, after all.

Zack sighed uncomfortably. It needed saying, though. "This might seem kind of random, but I've been meaning to say this for a few days, but we haven't been alone since then. I really am sorry for implying that this week must have happened because of your Ex. There's more to you than that. I knew that, but…"

Angeal, who had been quiet for some time, listening with that frown on his face as he stared at either Zack or the waterproof boards of the deck, interrupted him. "You're fine Zack. Really. This time it had nothing to do with Aerith… but other times it has. And I haven't been myself at all since the breakup. It's true that a lot of who I am these days is shaped by what happened."

"Yeah. I—I understand what that's like. In my own way, of course."

The sun was nearly set now. Their pinks and oranges had been chased away by more melancholy blues and purples. Some stars were out. Angeal spoke quietly. "In fact, I don't think I'll ever forget entirely. All sorts of things remind me of Aerith. We spent so much time gardening together, and now when I do it myself I have to struggle not to dwell on her. Certain meals. Certain shows. The color pink."

Physics. When he looked up at the night sky like he was doing now and saw constellations. Motorcycles. Anything at all.

"And maybe even when I'm ninety there will still be the occasional thing that makes me think, _Oh, Aerith_. But I think… as more and more time is passing… that the memories that hit me when I see pink or her favorite show are hurting less and less. She used to do the same thing where she holds up a finger when she's giving some goofy one-liner or saying a joke—and now I associate that more with you." Angeal smiled at him, and though the increasing darkness made it a little difficult to see, Zack could feel the warmth from it, and hear it in his voice, so he knew it was there.

"I think it's okay that you're as confused as you are. Healing takes a long time. We're all always healing from bad breakups."

Zack nodded as he turned Angeal's words over in his mind. Angeal continued, "Yeah, I'm still recovering from Aerith… and aren't you still recovering from Cloud?"

It had been years. Zack had thought he was over it a while ago. But maybe… this was the kind of thing you weren't supposed to just _get over_. Not for a long time yet. Maybe never—and that was not necessarily a bad thing. It was just how life worked, and how memories worked. And Zack wasn't nearly done making memories with Cloud through this life they'd constructed, new partners or not. "I see what you mean," Zack sighed. He was chilly but wanted to sit out here in the cold with Angeal for as long as they could stand it. "You're right. I guess I am."


	10. Chapter 10

" _And in this corrrrrrner_ ," roared the announcer, his voice booming off the domed ceiling and reverberating between the gaps in the enthusiastic crowd, "Markus Almeeeidaaaa!"

Screaming—so much Gaia-damned screaming.

Despite all of Tifa's efforts over the years cagefighting had never become Cloud's thing. He'd tagged along for individual matches and tournaments, and travelled alongside Tifa to big fights hours away by car and once or twice, via airship to another continent, where they would then live it up in a new city for a few days.

Cloud did genuinely have fun at some of these events, but that was because he got to spend time with Tifa, not because people kicking and punching the hell out of each other held much intrigue for him.

His and Tifa's biological offspring, though… that kid went wild.

" _Scissor Sweep!"_ Denzel cried at the same time Tifa yelled beside him, " _Can Opener!"_

The other opponent, Aarush "Crusher" Fazel, had just asked the audience which move he should defeat Almeida with. Cloud vaguely knew the names of a couple moves from just being physically present at these events. He wasn't always mentally—he inevitably got kind of bored and diverted his attention elsewhere—but he'd picked up on at least that much.

Denzel and Tifa, though. They knew it _all_.

Mixed Martial Arts fighting wasn't nearly as flashy as the fake and exaggerated wrestling on television. Those actors had tiny blades hidden in their hands and would quickly and nearly painlessly give themselves small cuts that would bleed and look fantastic on TV (but holy hell, was it ever so Gaia-damned fake. Tifa had gone on long, angry tangents about the glitz and glam of that industry quite a few times). Despite not being comparable to 'Professional' wrestling, the cagefighters of Midgar did know that their fights drew a big crowd, and crowds liked to be pleased.

And Cloud's son and his best friend—were they ever pleased.

Going to these fights was a whole day thing. They'd go out to eat first, at someone's favorite restaurant. They liked to cycle through them, Cloud's one time, then Denzel's, then Tifa's, then Zack's, and repeat. This time it was Tifa's pick, and she'd brought them out for brunch at a pancake house, one of the ones with the 50 flapjack challenges that earned you your picture on the wall, a free t-shirt, and a voided check. There were also bottomless mimosas, and afterward the adults would teeter down with Denzel to the subway and emerge at the stadium where the games were held.

There were always things to do before the matches began, too. Sometimes other sports teams would use the space. They'd catch boxing, or taekwondo, or karate. Once or twice they'd even stumbled upon 'Professional' Wrestling—and Denzel and Tifa had laughed themselves to actual tears, to the annoyance of the fans nearby. Zack had winced and done crowd control on that one (the memory made Cloud smile).

Cloud bobbed his head to the music coming through the speakers as his gaze swept over the audience. It was almost painfully loud and the kind of pop and rock that hyped people up. He was pretty buzzed. Cloud slid his hands down his jean-clad thighs, still bobbing his head, and focused on a family opposite them, on the far side of the circular ring.

Two adults, likely a mom and dad, and three kids. All clad in face paint and waving signs. Cute. A little overzealous for his tastes.

Beside him, Tifa wrapped her arm around Denzel. "Who do you think is going to win?"

"Fazel," Denzel declared, because Aarush was one of Tifa's friends, and the whole reason they were here (well, 'acquaintances' was more accurate, but they were friendly. They'd met at a mutual event held by another one of Tifa's wrestling friends and chatted a bit).

"Good answer," Tifa said.

Denzel leant right into her side, so clearly loving that arm around him. Cloud was on Tifa's other side and he smiled to himself, casting his gaze back at the match. Looked like the posturing was over and they were finally ready to begin.

Cloud's two companions yelled and cheered with the best of them. Denzel stamped his feet in anxiety when Fazel took a particularly devastating kick or punch to the head. Tifa bellowed encouragement: _His right guard is weak! Kick higher!_

All Cloud could do was chuckle to himself, and try to enjoy the afternoon as much as possible.

Towards the end of the first match Cloud was sent on snack duty. He leant over Tifa to get closer to Denzel and hear what he wanted from the vendors, then kissed Teef on the cheek before getting up and picking his way through the crowd.

Even out of the main area and in the wide hallways that circled the stadium, the music and yelling of the announcers was loud. The bass thudded in Cloud's belly, following him as he strolled through the crowd.

His coat was folded up in his chair, but he didn't need it. The heat in the building was on. This week was the first real cold front… it was miserable out there, and it would be until spring. An awful thought, truly…

"Pardon me," Cloud murmured as a young child nearly bumped into him, utterly focused on the drippy ice cream cone in their hands. He flashed a wide, kind smile at their adults who apologized breathlessly—they were probably late and hurrying to their seats.

The various stalls out here were stocked with stuff. Shirts and caps and big drinking cups with the logos of various fighters, the local basketball team, or the ice hockey players… bright lights advertising ticket packages and the benefits of season passes. Candy, alcohol, knickknacks.

Cloud got in line for food. He hoped it moved quickly—it was easy to start feeling lonely in places like this, surrounded by so many other people and all of their things.

He returned to the knockout. Tifa and Denzel were distraught; it wasn't Tifa's friend but the other guy who looked like he was going to win. Fazel staggered, fell to one knee. Denzel covered his eyes: "I can't watch!"

Cloud didn't either, because he was too enraptured by Tifa's sweaty hair sticking to the back of her neck. The rise of her chest as she gave a great inhale to yell one more time. Her eyes glowed in either excitement or fear, and then clenched shut as her head tilted back, her mouth twisting. " _Awwww._ "

"Can I look?" Denzel asked.

"He's a little bloody," Cloud said. Sometimes the more brutal injuries made Denzel feel a little woozy, so he liked to warn him.

Denzel nodded bravely and then peeked through his fingers. When he deemed it okay, he moved them away from his face entirely. He frowned at the cage.

Then he noticed the massive, goopy, chilli cheese dog Cloud was holding out for him. "Thanks Daddy," he said, snatching it up.

"You're welcome."

He and Tifa split a massive mug of beer during the second match. This one was less intense than the first, but Zack preferred them this way, where he could try to piece together their technique and focus on more than just who was about to get their lights knocked out. Cloud had called Zack and asked if he wanted to join them… and Zack had said he still needed more time to process everything.

Cloud could understand that. Or at least… even if he didn't understand, a full two weeks and change after he told Zack that he was 'involved' with Squall Leonhart, not yet _dating_ but _involved_ to the point where sexual things between him and Zack had to come to an end… well. He could be sympathetic. He could continue to be patient.

So Zack wasn't here, even though Tifa had called him too, to double check that he didn't want to come.

Cloud wouldn't have made it awkward. Denzel was here, anyway. He wouldn't have mentioned Squall at all. He'd still touch Zack's arm and smile at him at something corny the announcer said, and the two of them would watch Tifa and Denzel being cute and enjoying themselves together…

Tifa's fingertips tapped against the ticklish part of his palm. Cloud blinked and refocused on her. He'd zoned out, and he hadn't been thinking about anything good.

"I give Johnson thirty seconds," Tifa said, grinning at him. Cloud smiled back, grateful.

The guy staggered and fell for the last time almost as soon as her sentence was finished.

After five fights total the three of them left the arena. Tifa wobbled a bit and Cloud steadied her, threading his arm around her waist. He grabbed Denzel's hand with his other one. It was sticky from chili and cheese he hadn't wiped away fully with his napkin and Cloud made a face.

Tifa pulled out her phone after it buzzed and said loudly, "Hey! Boys! Aarush texted me – he says to go to the staff entrance by gate E; he'll meet us there."

"Ooh!" Denzel hurried up, pulling on Cloud's arm.

They moved as three through the halls and down staircases. Making eye contact with a few people on the way, Cloud understood how they were perceived. Gorgeous and adorably tipsy brunette huddled against his side, with a small child between them, the spitting image of both he and Tifa… those people would not be wrong by calling them a 'family.'

With Zack missing, though, things never felt quite as they should.

Cloud forgot about it as they met Tifa's friend. Denzel got to poke at the spectacular bruise on the guy's forehead. The swelling would probably obscure his eye in another hour or so.

"You're gonna need a drink after that," Tifa told him, gently slapping the man on the back. "If you come by Seventh Heaven your drinks tonight are free."

"Thanks, Tifa," Fazel sighed. He seemed down about losing his match, but Denzel told him he had been _really cool_ and he gave the kid a thumbs-up. He autographed a Gil in Cloud's wallet for Denzel too.

His kid was, of course, overjoyed.

They walked through the nearby park afterward, and they played with Denzel on a jungle gym until everyone's hands were frozen from hanging from icy monkey bars. The cold slapped Tifa and Cloud across the face with sobriety too.

Denzel fell asleep so quickly that night. Cloud crawled into bed with Tifa after the bar closed, letting her pillow her head on his bicep (he'd move it after she fell asleep). Tifa placed her hand on the side of his face, her callused fingertips running over the comparative softness of his cheek. Cloud couldn't grow a beard; he'd get a handful of awkwardly long hairs after a week or so, but that was all. Denzel would likely be the same—Zack was the one who had to shave, and even he didn't have to do it that often.

"He'll come around," Tifa told him. Her breath smelled like cinnamon. Her toothpaste was more intense than his, a gentle _icy fresh_.

"You think?"

"Of course. Zack just… needs to acknowledge it, that you two aren't going to hook up again until you and Squall break things off, if that ever happens. It means lots of things for him too, you know?"

"Yeah." Cloud could only imagine all the thinking Zack was doing. Renegotiating his life. Coming to new conclusions about Cloud. Seeing him differently.

Truthfully, he'd thought Zack would have come around by now. But Zack had been asking him to take care of Denzel much more often than usual, and he hadn't come by for family dinner in a while. He was so far away.

"Thanks, Teef," Cloud murmured.

"We'll try to get ahold of him tomorrow," she assured him, kissed his forehead, and closed her eyes.

* * *

When they tried contacting Zack the next day the results were the same. He didn't want to talk. Tifa gently reminded him about Family Dinner the next night, on Tuesday, and said that if he wanted to come by Seventh Heaven he was more than welcome. Zack said he'd _think about it,_ in that tone that people used when they said 'I'll think about it' that meant no, they wouldn't think about it at all beyond the next two seconds.

Tifa shrugged at him, a bit sadly. Cloud shrugged back - that was all they could do.

Even Squall, who always made Cloud's stomach flutter like he was going over the highest point of a roller coaster and was about to drop, couldn't totally drag Cloud out of his sour mood. He recognized it though, and jerked his head towards the chore chart on the back of the supply closet door. Denzel was on sweeping duty this week, Cloud noticed.

"You look down."

Cloud couldn't stop the tiny smile from spreading as he rubbed the back of his neck (a Zack gesture). "I'm alright," he said. He angled his body to give them a little more privacy, and pretended to be studying the chore chart. "Zack's being difficult, is all. He still doesn't want to talk to me."

Leonhart looked sympathetic. Cloud knew it made him awkward… talking about how Cloud's Ex was pissed at him for their relationship. He had to be feeling a strange mix of guilt and indignation; he'd told Cloud, his cute mouth turned down in a deep frown, that there was no way in hell he was going to _break up_ with Cloud because Zack was so upset. Now that Cloud was his, he was going to _stay_ his.

Heh. Cloud really, really liked this guy.

"He'll come around," Squall said, awkwardly.

Cloud brushed the back of his hand against Squall's so briefly it looked accidental to anyone watching. "Thanks. I'll see you this afternoon, handsome."

Squall looked slightly embarrassed, but also pleased. Cloud ruffled Denzel's hair and said, "I'll see you later."

"Bye Dad." Denzel shot him a quick grin, then followed Marlene to their Bone Village projects in the back of the room.

Picking Denzel up was nice, too. By now his son knew to sit on a beanbag with a book and occupy himself for a couple minutes while the two grownups talked. Squall never made it weird as they walked out to Fenrir or did anything to make Denzel suspect something was up. Cloud appreciated it.

As he straddled Fenrir after buckling Denzel in he caught Squall's eye, then winked at him. During the middle of the day he'd gotten a filthy text about how hot he looked on this thing. Cloud's skin prickled hot—in the almost three weeks since they'd been 'dating' they hadn't gotten a chance to be alone, not since that time in the craft closet before Harvest Day.

With luck, they'd get their chance soon enough.

"What do you want to eat for Family Dinner?" Cloud asked as he picked Denzel up and set him on his feet half an hour later outside Seventh Heaven.

As the boy unbuckled his helmet he said, "Pretzels!"

Tifa sold soft pretzels for bar patrons that had beer in the batter and spicy jalapeno cheese to dip them in. They were delicious, but, "That's not really a meal," Cloud said.

"We'll add other stuff." Denzel spoke confidently, knowing eventually the adults would cave to whatever he asked. He always got to pick Family Meal dinners. Cloud sighed, amused, and used his key to open up the back door. As his eyes adjusted to the relative darkness of the bar he spotted Tifa behind the counter, leaning on it as she talked to someone sitting at a stool.

"Papa!" Denzel yelled, delighted.

He ran to Zack, his light-up boots twinkling on the recently-mopped floors. He hugged Zack's waist, his backpack all askew.

"Denzyyyy," Zack said, reaching down with one arm to grab him. "How was your day?"

Denzel hadn't seen Zack in almost a week. Since Cloud told him about Squall (and even a little bit before, if he was remembering correctly) Zack had been _distant,_ taking Denzel for smaller amounts of time and less often. If Zack's beef was with Cloud there wasn't a need to deprive Denzel of time with his other father, Cloud thought, narrowing his eyes at Zack's back.

His Ex didn't look at him. Denzel stood on his tiptoes, Zack bent to kiss his cheek, and then Denzel continued around the bar counter to grab Tifa's hand and drag her into the back to concoct whatever monstrosity he was planning for dinner.

Zack's back stiffened. He slowly relaxed, then propped his elbow on the table and turned back towards Cloud, his chin on his palm. Cloud walked over to him, his boots making a jarring squeak against the floor. He felt strangely… nervous.

Nervous around _Zack,_ his oldest friend, his soulmate. Cloud took a breath, a little shaky, and sat at the stool next to him. He put his hands in his lap.

He asked, his voice deep and flirty, "You come here often?"

"Oh, y'know." Zack batted his eyelashes, looking a little shy. "Sometimes. I don't recognize you though."

Cloud leaned over the bar and a bit closer to Zack like a lecherous fifty-something talking to a college-aged girl would. "You don't? I'm a regular here. You could say the bartender and I are friends."

"Oh, wow." Zack tapped his chin. "So, like, you could get me a free drink?"

"I could give you a free drink and way more than that, if you'd let me. What's your name, pretty lady?"

"Zack." Zack held out his hand, and Cloud grasped it. The physical contact was so nice… he turned in his seat, caging Zack's knees in between his own.

"It's nice to meet you, Zack," he murmured, not letting go of the hand. His grip changed, hand tilting, his fingers grasping the other hand more firmly. His other one fell to Zack's thigh, his thumb rubbing the man's soft work slacks.

Zack kept his poker face for a moment. Then he gave his crooked little grin and Cloud laughed gently. "Hey," Zack whispered. He leant in to kiss Cloud's forehead.

Cloud flushed, peering at Zack through his bangs. His stomach flipped again, different from how it did around Squall. He wasn't sure if he could return the gesture or not.

"Aw, don't gimme that look." Zack sighed. "It's weird having you look so unsure about anything. You can kiss me, c'mon." He pointed right at his cheek, tapping it several times. Cloud kissed it twice, grabbing Zack's face and making the second wet and smacking. "Euuurgh," Zack said, shuddering, and they both smiled at each other. As Zack wiped at his skin with his sleeve he said, "There, we kissed and made up."

"Yeah." Cloud nodded. "You're not mad at me?"

"I was never _mad_ at you. I just had to...think."

"Yeah."

"And sulk a bit, I guess. I was a bit of an asshole about it, but it was hard for me, you know?"

"Yeah." Cloud didn't know what else to say; he was bad at this stuff.

"But I spent a lot of time thinking about it and talkin' about it _and_ … I think I'm pretty good now. I want you to know I'm really happy for you, Spike." Gaia, hearing the familiar nickname again made Cloud feel so good. "Leonhart seems like a really cool dude. He'll be good to you."

"He's been good to me so far. I'm… really happy to hear you say that."

Zack grinned again, but it faded fast. He looked a little sad. His arms then wound around Cloud's back and pulled him in for a hug. He smelled safe, felt safe, was safe. It was good to have him back.

Cloud was glad Denzel and Tifa were still in the kitchen. He hugged Zack back and relaxed against him, resting his head on his shoulder. Zack kissed his hair, then murmured, "But I can't say I'm not gonna miss you."

"I'll miss you too," Cloud said, meaning it. "I miss you already. I miss you right now."

Zack clutched him a little tighter for a moment; it seemed like Cloud reassured him about something. "Well… I always talked so much about how if one of us started dating the other one would be cool with it. I'm gonna live up to it, or you'll never take me seriously about anything ever again. So. Lemme just tell you _again_ : I'm excited for you about this Mr. Leonhart thing, and I'm gonna stay here with you even if we can't, y'know, do some of the stuff we did before."

Well there was no rule that they _couldn't._ If Cloud asked Squall about hooking up with Zack it was quite possible he'd say yes. It wasn't like Cloud was at risk for developing romantic feelings for Zack. That was something Cloud would think about properly further down the road, and not when he and Squall were still less than a month old. Instead he just nodded, looked very grateful, and thanked Zack.

Denzel's stomping feet came back this way so they backed up. The space between them seemed less void-like, less like a vacuum through which light could travel but not sound (there was no sound in space, unlike what the movies would show, with big explosions. There wasn't any air for the sound waves to travel through). It seemed just like… a regular couple of inches. Finally having Zack talking to him again made Cloud feel lighter.

Denzel spread his arms, acting goofy. "Tifa and I have prepared…" he said, wiggling his fingers like a magician about to make a rabbit appear out of a hat, "A truly _spectaclar_ feast!"

"Spectacular," Cloud gently corrected.

"A truly _spectacular_ feast!"

"Well what is it?" Zack asked, throwing up his hands. "I'm starvin' here, can't you see? ? How long are we gonna have to wait? You're not gettin' no tip from me!"

Denzel giggled. "Tifa's still cooking it! You're going to have to wait."

"Uuuugh. Cloud, let's leave and get Wutian for dinner," Zack said.

"Yeah, alright." Cloud stood and moved towards the door, Zack close behind.

Denzel raced them to it and barred the door. "You'll like it!" he promised.

"Wellllll… I guess I can wait a little longer." Zack picked Denzel up, making the boy squirm, and carried him over to their usual table. Smiling, Cloud turned to Tifa.

"Do you need any help back there?"

"Nah. What he wanted wasn't hard, it's just a little...different. It's mostly waiting for the pretzel dough to bake."

"At least it isn't chicken nuggets and mac n' cheese for the fourth time in a row."

"Ugh." Tifa glanced over his shoulder towards the other two. _You're okay?_ she mouthed.

Cloud was. He sat across from his Ex-Husband and son who were talking about Angeal Hewley's dogs (as usual). Denzel was saying, "I want another sleepover."

"Oh yeah? I'm sure Angeal wouldn't mind having us over again. It was fun the last time."

Cloud had been happy to hear, about a week and a half previous, that Angeal was feeling better. His depressive episode had ended at least, and he was back to work and back to the occasional early-morning jog with his greyhound, both of them bundled up. Cloud still had only met him once, but with all the things he heard about him, he'd been pretty concerned. It was good that Zack had a close friend to turn to now, when Cloud was removed in some capacity.

They talked about school, and Marlene, and Vincent Valentine, and Yuffie from his favorite book series, and then a whole bunch of rambling tangential things that Cloud and Zack couldn't keep up with. And then Tifa brought out the cake.

Denzel wiggled in his seat, standing up on his knees to watch as she lowered it to the table on a big serving plate. She had other plates with her, and doubled back for a big bowl of the spicy dipping cheese...which also seemed to be oozing out of the cake.

"What the hell is it?" Zack asked.

"Heck," Tifa corrected.

"What the _heck_ is this, Denzy?"

Denzel stuck out one finger and proudly pointed at each layer. Pretzel dough. Chicken sausage. (He didn't like the pork kind; he got grossed out by the chunks of fat and other mysteriousness.) Roasted broccoli. Jalapenos. Cheese. Pretzel dough, chicken sausage, broccoli, Jalapenos, cheese, pretzel dough, cheese.

Zack said, bringing a hand to his mouth, "Whaaaat."

Cloud grinned at Tifa, who shrugged helplessly. "I guess it makes sense? I already serve the pretzels with the sausage and cheese, and broccoli and cheese is a classic."

"And broccoli is my favorite vegetable," Denzel said.

He sounded a little hesitant so Cloud made sure to congratulate him. "This looks like it's going to be super messy, but it looks delicious, Denz - thank you."

Zack and Tifa also chorused their own _thank yous_ and Denzel smiled big and wide. And like Cloud predicted, it was a giant mess, and also a delicious one. He hooked his foot around Zack's underneath the table and felt nothing but happiness, radiating out of him like light from a star.

* * *

Denzel was very sleepy. Not for the first time, Cloud spared a grateful thought for the belts keeping Denzel on the back of his motorcycle. He was far too tired to hold onto Cloud. The usual traffic from downtown Midgar to Denzel's school wasn't quite what it would be in another hour, when he usually took Denzel in to school, and it was dark. Dark and freezing.

The cold front was pretty brutal. It wasn't even time for the Solstice yet, but the air was frigid. Sure, the middle of winter was way worse, but those first weeks of _cold_ weather seemed so much colder than the dog days of winter because you weren't yet used to it.

"You okay back there, Denz?" Cloud called at a red light.

"Mmmmn."

Beneath his helmet, Cloud smiled. He eased them into a parking spot near the front entrance of the school ( _score -_ that was a nice thing about coming in so early) and unbuckled his tired son. He picked him up and Denzel clung to him, nuzzling his face once his own helmet was off into the warmth of Cloud's neck. "M'tired," he mumbled.

"I know. Sorry, buddy."

He'd had no choice but to bring Denzel along to this Home & School Council event because Zack was _busy._ He always seemed to be _busy_ these days… Cloud hadn't had Denzel this often since the summer time, when he was 'summer camp' half of the week on his days off. Cloud didn't know what Zack was so busy with, but it was starting to really irritate him.

Cloud removed Denzel's backpack from the storage compartment and walked hand-in-hand with him inside the building. He nodded at the security guard and walked down the main concourse until they reached the rest of the Home & School Council… Cloud's friends.

"Good morning, young man," greeted Jen, the chair, and eldest member.

"Morning," Denzel mumbled, tucking himself shyly behind Cloud's leg.

Today they were giving out free merchandise to anyone that passed by - Cougar stuff, the high school's mascot. There was an upcoming football game that the elementary school band and orchestra would attend; they were selling tickets to that, too.

Julia, Erin and Louise dressed Denzel up in a cougar hat, t-shirt, wristband, necklace, and other stuff. The poor kid modeled _everything_ they were giving away. He seemed happy though, finally waking up under all the attention from these women, and preened at it all. As much of a flirt as his Papa, Cloud thought, snorting as he counted out the bills in their little till.

"How are things at Tuesti's?" he asked Maggie, a middle-aged woman with dyed blond hair who worked at a restaurant at the local mall. She was always complaining about it.

"Ugh," she said, "This woman yesterday started ranting to me about the meatballs, and then. . ."

When people started filing through the building Denzel proudly stood in front of the table. He'd strike a pose or manage to look more casual while simultaneously giving a perfect view of his couture. "He's a natural model," Jen said, laughing deep and scratchy in her throat, "You ever think of signing him up for anything?"

Cloud chuckled. "No, I haven't."

"Probably better off. Before you know it he'd be 16 and in those little undies with his junk hanging out!"

Cloud winced; Zack's grandma was the same way, talking about that kind of stuff like it was funny and without shame, and not about a seven year-old's 'junk.' Jen had a granddaughter in the fourth grade here.

To Cloud's immense pleasure Squall Leonhart stopped by. The guy knew Cloud and Denzel were going to be there, because Cloud had texted him… but it was still exciting like it was that first time, when the teacher had strolled over instead of continuing on to his own classroom.

"I didn't know you were such a fan of the high school football team," he said dryly to Denzel.

Denzel turned his cap around so the brim pointed backwards. "I'm their number one fan," he answered, with a truly fantastic poker face.

"Oh yeah?" Squall raised an eyebrow. Cloud watched from behind their table, giving a mom her change for a purchased ticket. "What's the quarterback's name?"

"Vincent Valentine," Denzel answered without skipping a beat. "He's number 8. He gets touchdowns all the time."

"Ah, you're right. And number 4 - Tseng Yue - he's the super fast running back."

"The fastest," Denzel responded breezily. Then he giggled.

Cloud recognized that name as a book character in another series Denzel liked and read in school. He bade the woman he was serving goodbye with a kind smile, then flashed it at his _boyfriend_ (ooh, that word felt so good). Leonhart grabbed Denzel's cap and walked forward with it. He stuck it on Cloud's head and said, "I didn't realize your son was so into sports. We're starting a unit about winter sports next week."

That was… bold, wasn't it? Cloud wasn't sure how such a small gesture, just smushing a hat on over his spikes, could be so seductive. He swallowed. "He and I go snowboarding sometimes. Denzel has lots to say about that."

"Yeah," Denzel chirped, "About how I always fall on my butt!"

He grinned at the word _butt,_ said so proudly in front of so many grown-ups. Cloud rolled his eyes. "You get better and better every year." Cloud pulled off the cap and tossed it back to Denzel. Then he took two steps to the side and Squall went with him.

"Hey," Cloud murmured, his voice quiet and soft. Denzel was back to waving at his friends (he felt super cool doing this).

"Good morning." Squall's gaze blanketed Cloud in warmth.

It was so frustrating. The two of them were dating but they weren't _dating_. They didn't go on dates. There wasn't really time, not with Cloud always having Denzel these days. At school they couldn't be affectionate like they wanted to be. Cloud had to get him alone away from the building.

"Are you free tomorrow evening?" he asked.

"After school? ...Yeah."

Zack had said that _maybe_ he'd take Denz for a couple days starting the next day when he'd pick Denzel up from school. Cloud would make sure that was a _definitely._ They made plans to go to Squall's place at 4. "Alright," Cloud said, fighting a smile. He nodded and Squall nodded back, and then he stepped away to say hello the other Home & School Council members.

"See you soon Denzel," Squall said, waving at the boy, and then went upstairs.

"He's cute," Maggie told him after he left.

Cloud answered, "Unbearably."

* * *

Cloud had not had a _date night_ in a very, very long time. While still married to Zack they used to set aside a night every other week or so to spend some time together. They had been wonderful… dates with Zack were _always_ wonderful, and they'd had lots of fun whether it was a movie or an evening at a bar or just out on the town or whatever.

Since the divorce he'd been on a few dates, like three or four. Nothing special or exciting really. This, however, was a real 'date night' - and it was going to extend into a date morning, too. Cloud packed a bag of pajamas, his toothbrush, and his tablet so he could finish his latest book if he got some downtime. He had clothes for tomorrow neatly arranged. Cloud was excited… this was the same feeling he'd used to get going to Tifa's house for a sleepover as a kid - except so much more than that obviously.

This was the first time Cloud would spend an evening with his newest boyfriend. Very different indeed. And oh, man, he was looking forward to it.

Cloud swung downstairs and waved Tifa a quick goodbye. The bar wasn't as busy as it would be later on in the evening and already smelled good; the part-timers in the kitchen were preparing everything for the crowds later on. She blew him a kiss. Now feeling stronger, Cloud wrapped his motorcycle jacket closer around him and exited the bar out into the cold.

Squall lived in Sector 1, on the fringes of the old Historic District. The buildings were smaller here, ones that were historical and couldn't be knocked down. Behind them, though, were the skyscrapers Midgar was known for. Squall lived in an apartment building that Cloud almost missed. It was small and nondescript and between two much larger complexes. Cloud had to park three blocks away (where he finally found an open space) and put money into the meter (he only needed money for a couple more hours as it was free overnight, heh).

Then he was back, and pressing the key code that Squall gave him. It rang, then buzzed.

"Hey," Cloud said into the box.

Squall's voice came back fuzzy, but happy. "Hey yourself. Come on in." There was a beep and then a click as the door unlocked. Cloud went inside. It was small and dimly lit with cramped hallways and green carpet worn down from feet over the years. Squall's apartment was on the top floor, the fifth. Cloud forewent the elevator and took the stairs (they creaked under his boots). The burn in his thighs gave him something to focus on.

511\. He knocked.

Mr. Leonhart opened the door. He wasn't in his classroom and he wasn't at the Physical Sciences Museum either - Cloud saw the man in a whole new space, _his_ space. He looked like a whole new guy because of it.

Cloud hesitated for a moment, frozen with an awkward smile on his face. Squall smiled back at him, his eyes doing that familiar thing where they sent warmth down to Cloud's toes and made him feel like Squall could see every individual atom that made him up. There was his boyfriend - Squall raised his arms after Cloud came in to hug him hello. There he was - his arms locking in place behind Cloud's back, the hint of cologne in Cloud's nose, in the drawl in his ear: "Thanks for coming."

Here he was, and he was all Cloud's. Cloud didn't resist the urge to run his hands up his chest and cup his cheeks with both hands, still gloved. "Don't thank me yet," he murmured. "I just got here. There's plenty of time for me to spectacularly mess this up still."

"I doubt that'll happen."

They kissed, affectionate and warm. Cloud's chilly nose bumped against Squall's. "I brought wine," Cloud said with a grin after he pulled away. It was only polite to bring something, and Tifa gave him a bottle of the good stuff in exchange for working the evening before. He took it out of his bag and passed it over.

Squall thanked him and put it on the kitchen counter… which was only six steps away. In preparation for this date via text Squall had warned him that his apartment was small, very small. Cloud lived over a bar, though, and he wanted to feel totally alone with this man this first night, so they were here.

But Squall had not been lying. His apartment was indeed very small. It was a cramped studio, probably 500 square feet. Cloud saw the bed against the far wall, the couch and TV beside it. The kitchen was a teeny little nook the size of one of the booths at Seventh Heaven.

Squall rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry it's so tight in here."

Cloud's brain wanted to turn that into an innuendo. "It's fine, don't worry—your place is cute." It was—it was very neat, though obviously the home of a second-grade teacher who was a giant nerd. A stack of spelling sheet was on the coffee table, and Cloud saw crafting books and thick volumes about childhood psychology on the bookcase. By the bed was a framed Triple Triad poster. That must have been the difference between youth and adulthood—switching tape for nails to hang up your geeky shit.

Cloud took off his boots and sat on the couch after Squall gestured to it. He got comfortable, sinking into it, and looked around. The silence between them grew a little too long, and then both started talking at the same time.

"Go ahead," Squall said, looking oddly serious.

"I was just saying how nice it is to see where you live. "It's very You."

Squall glanced at the Triple Triad poster. The side of his mouth quirked up. "Yeah, it is," he said, "I've lived here for about two years, since I got my teaching job and moved to Midgar."

"Seems like you like it."

Squall shrugged one shoulder (and the gesture was far more attractive than it had any right being). "I guess. It's comfortable, even if it's cramped and I get the occasional roach."

"Yeah, tell me about it. We put a lot of work in to keep them out of the bar. Tifa would flip out if she saw them anywhere near the food."

"Mm."

Squall seemed a little tense. Cloud was too—he was nervous, like he'd been seeing him in the museum. He wasn't the best at calming people down, but he'd try, especially for his boyfriend's sake. Cloud patted the seat cushion beside him. "Sit down with me, wouldja? I could do with some cuddling; we're long overdue."

He'd received texts about how Squall wanted to hold him a few times (and more, but that was filthier). Cloud ached for some closeness. Squall didn't move, though he was smiling now. "I have to go finish up dinner." There was a pot on the stove. "But I'm tempted. Rain check."

"Oh. Then I'll help."

"That's alright." Squall paused, then seemed to consider how it seemed like he was keeping a lot of distance between them. "Guests," he said, moving closer until he was right there, feet bumping against Cloud's, "Are not allowed to work while they're here, or I'm a bad host. Just sit for a couple more minutes, okay?"

He bent to kiss Cloud, his lips and his breath warm against Cloud's mouth. He swiped at Cloud's bottom lip with his tongue before drawing away. Cloud smiled. "Okay."

Squall went back to the kitchen. Cloud, still grinning and loving the flutter in his belly, stretched out longwise on the couch and pulled out his phone.

 _What's up?_ He texted Zack. After a minute he got a picture of Denzel smiling with Shiva's nose in his hair and her wagging tail a blur. They were always at Angeal's house these days.

 _Great,_ was the answer. _How's your date? ? ?_

Cloud took a sneaky picture of Squall's back. The whole apartment smelled so good—like the steak Squall told him he'd been making for them both. He sent it along with _Good so far. A little awkward… but that'll go away once we crack open the wine._

Zack responded, _I'm an expert at dealing with first date awkwardness at this point. Just start asking questions! And find some time to hunt down Denzel's homework and give him double stars on everything when you get a spare minute…_

Cloud almost told Squall that he was going to find Denzel's homework that needed a grade. It was a bad idea though. He knew Squall was… weird about the fact that he taught Cloud's son. Paranoid about it, even. He didn't say it. Instead, he messaged back, _If everything goes well I won't have any spare moments…_

 _Get it Spike._

Cloud tucked his cell away with a grin. He gazed around the apartment. Books. Soft curtains. Trinkets on the shelves. A nice laptop on the bottom shelf of the coffee table. Pictures hung on the wall above the bookcase, nice and neat. Cloud got up to nosily inspect them.

There was an old one, of a young Squall, an older girl and two adults, a man and a woman. There was another of that same girl, now older, in a wheelchair, held securely and safely with various straps and buckles. Her wheelchair had a screen in front of it, probably for retina-reading technology. There was a picture of Squall and some friends, and one of him and a dark-haired woman with their arms around each other at a baseball game.

Cloud strolled into the kitchen. "Get out," Squall said, smirking at him over his shoulder. He slid thinly-sliced, crispy potatoes and asparagus onto a dish out of the oven pan.

"I'm not here to try to help. Just to poke around, because I'm nosy."

He opened the fridge and inspected the condiments. A variety, good. He wasn't one of those 'ketchup only' people. Lots of vegetables and some beer on the bottom shelf. Special craft stuff from a local brewery.

Squall drawled, "Does it meet Mr. Strife's inspection?"

Cloud didn't answer until he'd poked through the freezer too. "It does," he said simply. "Mr. Leonhart has disgusting taste in ice cream."

"Black Cherry is fantastic."

"It's foul."

"You're foul."

"So is your _face_ ," Cloud said, like Denzel might. Squall chuckled and handed him the dish. The 'table' was a tiny circular thing on tall legs with two stools underneath. Cloud sat at a spot, already with a plate and silverware and such for him, and waited. After Squall brought the steaks over they talked about food for a few minutes longer. It wasn't quite small talk, it was too comfortable for that, but it wasn't a deep, moving discussion either. Cloud was eager to get to the good stuff.

"So, Mr. Leonhart," he said, "If you haven't noticed, we are _not_ in your classroom."

Squall looked around as if seeing his apartment for the first time. "Woah," he said, "So we aren't."

"And that _means_ that there aren't any small children around to hear you say scandalous things. It feels like I still don't know that much about you. So." Squall raised an eyebrow, waiting for the first question.

"What's the most dangerous thing you've ever done?"

Laughing softly, Squall answered, "Skydiving, probably. And attempting 21 shots on my 21st birthday."

"Oof." Cloud winced sympathetically. "Skydiving, though? That's cool."

"Mm. I went with a group of friends in highschool. What's your most embarrassing memory?"

Cloud had to think for a long, excruciating minute. "You're cruel. I once called my fourth-grade teacher 'mom' in front of everybody. I still wake up sweaty thinking about it sometimes."

Squall grinned. "That happens. I guarantee your teacher didn't think anything of it."

"Don't care. Still gonna take that to my grave. Favorite book?"

It was some obscure Mideelian thing from a hundred years ago. Cloud learned about Squall's other hobbies—tennis, bad movies, books that were so scary he couldn't sleep—and Squall about Cloud's—motorcycles, tech magazines, extreme sports. He even confessed his love for tiny, dainty, lacy things… he liked looking at the wicked expensive dollhouses at the big stores in Midgar with Denzel. (He also had a lacy pair of panties with matching stockings and a thin ribbon garter belt in a box at home but he didn't tell Squall that.)

"You know all about mine," Cloud said, "Tell me about your family.

Squall tilted his head. Everything he did was elegant or refined in a way Cloud's didn't possess… he didn't seem to waste any movements.

"I have an older sister," he said slowly, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. "My parents passed when I was 15."

"Oh, wow. Sorry for asking."

"Mm, no, thank you for asking. I don't talk about them much other than Ellone."

"Your sister?"

Smiling, Cloud nodded. "She was 19 when she and my parents were on a train that derailed. She suffered severe brain trauma. She's in a care facility in Junon right now, but I visit a couple times a month."

"I bet she likes seeing you."

"She does. Other than her, I've got an aunt who took us in after our parents passed… but since she kicked me out when I came out at seventeen we don't talk much."

"Ugh. Shit."

Squall shrugged. "You know how it is." Cloud did. Squall had it pretty rough, huh…

Cloud's dad was out of the picture and his mom passed away in college. As she was an only child he had no cousins. Cloud's family had always been Zack's family. Denzel adored his grandparents and had a few cousins his age on that side. Tifa's mom was like a grandmother to Denzel as well.

It was so nice getting to talk to Squall like this… about whatever they wanted, for as long as they wanted. Squall's ankle slid between his, a discrete little touch, and they didn't have to keep it brief, didn't have to move it.

It was romantic, was quiet and gentle, was easy. It was exactly what Cloud had been craving.

But he craved something else, too… Squall laughed at one of Cloud's jokes, and he was on this third glass of wine so he was relaxed and sillier than usual. The guy was beautiful, and Cloud wanted to tuck his hair behind his ear and kiss along the seam of that wide smile…

…But no, this was their _real_ date, not just some hookup. It was worth doing it right.

When they cleared their plates Cloud did the dishes as Squall leant back against the counter with his wine. He watched Cloud, his eyes hot over the rim of his glass.

"And you just _never_ learned?" Cloud asked, in the middle of a conversation about Squall's inability to ride a bike.

"Well I wasn't going to try to learn at like, thirteen. It's embarrassing to fall down at that age."

Cloud muttered, "Alright, no riding Fenrir for you."

When Cloud attempted to dry the dishes in the rack Squall reached out and grabbed his hand. He pulled him close, until their chests bumped and Cloud felt the warmth from his skin. "You don't have to do that," he said. "Come sit down."

They moved to the couch. Squall stretched his socked feet out on the table but Cloud tucked his knees up. He rested them and his thighs across squall's lap and nestled into his side. He deserved that much, dammit.

His boyfriend seemed to think so. As Cloud got comfortable leaning against him Squall's right hand splayed out on his thigh. His thumb rubbed against Cloud's jeans affectionately.

Cloud took another sip of his wine, then rested his chin on Squall's shoulder. He wasn't as broad here as cloud was but his shirt was soft and body radiating heat underneath it. They both went still, probably thinking the same thing—wow, this is nice.

"I can touch you for more than two milliseconds at a time," Leonhart said.

"You can touch me as much as you want." Cloud smiled slyly, but his point rang clear—it was just the two of them. Cloud soaked in the feeling of the other man's body against his.

"Guess I can. It's about time."

They turned on the television. Some movie was on. Cloud tried to focus on it but resting against Squall like this was so distracting. They were doing this date _right_ though, so Cloud didn't kiss his neck (other than one smooch, so kill him) or slide his hands up his thighs.

They watched the damn movie. Dinner and a movie—classic right?

They talked too though. Squall kept his thumb moving, rubbing the back of Cloud's hands or his knee. "Tell me something about you that I don't know."

"I'm pansexual. Don't know if I ever specified. And I don't actually hate Veld's music."

"And I'm as gay as Veld," Squall said, making Cloud huff a laugh. Popstars and their one-syllable names. "I'm lactose intolerant. I have to take a pill before I eat that ice cream."

"That gross ice cream. I broke my arm as a kid when Tifa and I fell off a bridge. She broke both legs."

"Had sex for the first time at 18. I love whiskey."

"14. I think I have a cavity—I haven't been able to drink anything cold and hold it in the right side of my mouth for a couple months."

"You should get that checked out, Mr. Strife." Squall looked away from the screen and at Cloud. His face was so close; his nose nearly brushed against Cloud's. He had very clear skin, and a few tiny moles Cloud hadn't noticed before. The scar on his face was so big and attention-grabbing, but distinctive and even pretty sexy. Squall ran his thumb down Cloud's jaw on the right side.

He could have leant in and kissed Cloud. His finger left a trail of fire behind. His grey eyes fell to Cloud's lips and then flickered back up.

He didn't though. And Cloud didn't lean up or in either. They settled against one another, Cloud now resting his whole head on Squall's shoulder.

"I ate most of Denzel's baby food. Zack was always surprised we went through it so fast."

"Pfffft. I don't actually often go by the name 'Squall.'"

Cloud lifted his head back up. "Really?"

Squall shrugged. "Kinda. My friends mostly call me Leon. It's my nickname, I guess."

"Leon Leonhart. My boyfriend sounds like a character from a bad cop drama."

Squall's eyes glittered at _my boyfriend_. "You don't have to call me that too."

"I like it. Suits you."

They traded more tidbits about each other. They eventually shifted so Cloud rested against the armrest and Squall leant back against his chest. Cloud pressed his nose and mouth to the top of Squall's head. They both fell quiet after a time, relaxing together.

It was the best thing in the whole world, Cloud was sure.

They corked the wine with a little less than half left in the second bottle. The movie wasn't over but it was getting there.

Cloud wasn't sure when the appropriate time was to have sex. He didn't want this romantic haze that had fallen to dissipate… yet at the same time he could see the bed over the top of the bed and he needed Squall coming onto those sheets immediately.

He shifted a little. His legs caged in Squall's body and he was hardening against the man's lower back. Squall's hand drifted to his ankle.

On screen the main character began a long, tearful monologue. Cloud had had enough. His hands sipped under the hem of Squall's cute shirt and ran up his belly and sides.

Without a word, Squall sat up. He climbed over onto his hands and knees and hovered over Cloud. Their eyes locked, breath deep and labored between them, and then he curled his spine and dipped down to kiss Cloud.

Cloud's fingers sifted through that soft brown hair. He tilted his head and—there, just like that, perfection.

As the movie turned to its end credits Cloud and Squall pushed closer, soft kiss following soft kiss following even more. Squall's lips were fire and the length of his body on top of Cloud's a searing weight. And although Cloud's heart raced they went slow, their lips moving gently, tongues brushing occasionally.

When Cloud tugged at Squall's shirt the man raised his arms. Cloud pulled it up and off, his hands splaying out on the revealed skin. He didn't have as much muscle as Zack and was quite a bit leaner. His core contracted as Cloud ticklishly raked down his belly with his nails.

They touched and breathed and murmured to each other. When Cloud wasn't kissing Squall's mouth he was pressing his lips to his neck and jaw and shoulders, floating on this tender dreamy feeling. They made out and Squall ground his cock down into Cloud's lap for an acceptable amount of time, until it didn't seem skeevy to relocate to the bed.

"I'm carrying you there," Cloud warned, then wrapped his hands underneath the thighs already spread out on his lap and stood. It wasn't a long trip. He lowered Squall to the bed and crawled on after him. They laid on their sides and kissed, legs entwined, ignoring the sounds of the commercials between the end of their movie and the next.

Cloud slid down Squall's pants. His legs were strong, maybe he had a gym membership or played lots of tennis? and his erection was at risk of peeking out the top of his cute little briefs. Once Cloud was in his underwear too they kissed for a while longer, pressing their bodies together, petting and caressing.

This was slower than Cloud usually liked it. But it was so good to experience it like this with him. Squall rocked his hips forward, his clothed dick rubbing against Cloud's, and for a few moments Cloud's brain was full of the filthiest shit—his cock stretching Squall wide, semen coming out around his length and going in sticky rivulets down the curves of his ass, licking at the man's balls as he jerked him off in his hands, working a vibrator into his boyfriend and letting him fuck his face as Cloud had one in his own ass at the max setting that would bring tears to his eyes.

Except— _no,_ they were doing this _right._ A long slow exploration of each other's bodies. Romance. Right.

They were just kissing, and squirming against each other. And thinking about the depth of their affection for each other and how happy they were to be dating and to have time alone and to not be in the classroom and oh yeah, and what it would be like to fuck Cloud and have the blond red-faced and gasping Squall's name, to see Cloud fucked so hard he couldn't speak, his face pressed into the bedding and his fists bunching up the comforter and his toes scrabbling at it to keep himself upright.

Except— _no,_ that's _not_ what this was.

Squall eventually broke away, a thin line of spit connecting their mouths. He pushed up onto his knees and his hands fell to the waistband of Cloud's underwear. As he peeled them back he panted, "Maybe we can do the slow thing some other time. I've got to get inside you in the next ten minutes or I'm gonna lose it."

Music to Cloud's ears.

The blond scrambled out of them, enthusiastically spreading his thighs for Squall's hungry eyes. The man devoured him, fingertips brushing over the sensitive insides of his thighs and the curve of his ass before he wrapped a hand around Cloud's cock.

Cloud sighed at that first pull from base to tip. Then he hiked his legs back higher and said breathlessly, "Lube?"

Squall hurried to get it. His fingers shook as he tried to open it and Cloud helped him, taking a sweet moment to kiss a fingertip before he squirted lube onto it and roughly shoved his fingers inside himself.

He'd stretched himself out earlier that day and spent a lot of time washing down there… he was set. Cloud got two fingers in there, crooking them just right, and lifted his head up slightly to smirk at the way Squall was looking at his entrance gripping tight around them—he just looked blown away, his eyebrows high and his expression loose and open. He looked young.

Then Squall got lube on two fingers and slid them inside along Cloud's. They fucked Cloud together, breath heavy and loud. "You're perfect," Squall said breathlessly, and Cloud hadn't taken him for the type to say stuff like that. "You're amazing, Cloud."

"Tell me something I don't know," was Cloud's answer—he went bright red at the words and deflected before he said something embarrassing or moaned at them, oh man.

Squall rasped, "Condom," as if he needed to hear it out loud to get shocked out of his stupor from the view. His fingers slid out and Cloud missed them, though he knew he'd get something even better in a minute.

His boyfriend rolled it on. Cloud maneuvered onto his hands and knees and looked back at Squall. His arms trembled already. "Come on," he said urgently, clenching his ass around nothing but slick.

Squall's cock bumped at his asshole, then moved forward and spread that muscle… easing inside with care but moving so surely, until the hot, hard cock was buried in him as deep as it would go. Cloud moaned raggedly, dropping his cheek to the bedding. His ass was up and his thighs spread and it was filthy and he fucking loved it.

"Feel good, Mr. Strife?"

"Of course, Mr. Leonhart. I wonder if you can make me feel better."

"We'll see," Squall said gravely, and started shallowly fucking his hips.

Cloud had been dreaming about this cock ever since he'd gotten his first access to it in the craft closet at school. The slight curve to it, the pretty blushed head, the thick vein, the soft brown hairs at the base—all of it was wonderful. It hit all his good spots and Cloud shuddered, pushing his hips back harder and harder until Squall stopped the gentle beginning thrusts and just started to _fuck him_.

They had to come _now_.

The man curled over his back, all that warm skin pressing against him. His thrusts were deep, claiming Cloud, all power and finesse. They grew increasingly sloppy though as they got closer and closer to orgasm. It was all rutting and gyrating and pushing and shoving, never rough or harsh but just _desperate,_ their fingers scrabbling at each other as _Just like thats_ and _You're so goods_ and _oh my gods_ floated in the spaces between them.

Cloud reached under himself and worked his thick, heavy cock until it was too much and he came hard, shaking uncontrollably as his ass clenched around Squall and semen shot out onto the blankets. Squall moaned at the feel and look of him and fucked his still-twitching ass for a few minutes longer.

The blond easily took it, loose and exhausted now, giving Squall sly, encouraging looks over his shoulder. "Come on Leon," he said, clenching for added effect, "And give it to me already."

Squall's back bowed as he came and his thrusts grew short and staccato, sucking in a breath through his teeth. Cloud let out a long hum as the man came.

When he slipped out and the condom was gone Cloud rolled over and pulled Squall down beside him. Their mouths found each other and the kissed, both smiling, Squall chuckling with a little guilty twinge in there.

That had been—well, _really_ quick. Oops.

Cloud didn't mind the change from the original plan though. He grinned against Squall's cheek as his hand found Squall's. The man gripped back tightly.

Leonhart didn't often say things like this but he kissed Cloud's temple and murmured, "I'm really happy."

"Me too."

Cloud was—they had so much time left to do the slow thing, and the rest of the _right_ things, and even some wrong ones. He irritably turned the TV off and crawled back into bed, where a gorgeous man waited with his arms open for him.

Sometime in the morning hours they fucked again. Sometime later in the morning they had breakfast, and then an hour after that, Cloud lazily got back in _Leon's_ bed and watched, waving goodbye, as the guy left to go teach his son.

* * *

 _This chapter is part 5/9 of my Cloud's Birthday Week 2k16 challenge on tumblr. I hope you enjoyed it!_


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